YOUNG  BOSWELL 


CHAUNCEY  BREWSTER  TINKER 


IVERSIIY    Ut- 

l^LIFORNIA 
KH  DIEGO 


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YOUNG  BOSWELL. 


YOUNC,    LHiSWELL 

JAMKS  [{APHER 

BA  UAL 


ENGRAVING  BY  WILLIAM  DANIELL  (1808)  FROM  A  PORTRAIT 
BY  GEORGE  DANCE  (1793) 


With  Many  1 


THE  ATLANTIC  MONT* 
BOSTON 


TIAHTHCaK^*"/!!  'H^r  I  uaii^Aa  MAIJJIV^  Ya  O'/IIVAflOVia 

(een)  a :)/iAa  aofloao  ys 


X 


J^i/:^,^^  ^^^^1^^. 


YOUNG   BOSWELL 

CHAPTERS   ON 
JAMES  BOSWELL   THE    BIOGRAPHER 
BASED  LARGELY  ON  NEW  MATERIAL 


Br/ 
CHAUNCEY  BREWSTER  TINKER 


With  Many  Illustrations 


THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY  PRESS 
BOSTON 


Copyright,  1922,  by 
CHAUNCEY  B.  TINKER 


To  R.  B.  ADAM 

My  dear  Mr.  Adam, 

Since  it  was  our  common  interest  in  Boswell  that  brought  us 
acquainted  now  many  years  ago,  you  will,  I  am  sure,  -permit 
me  to  dedicate  this  hook  to  you.  You  have  furnished  me  with  a 
large  number  of  the  new  letters  which  are  quoted  in  it,  and  with 
nearly  all  the  illustrations.  But  I  value  even  more  highly  your 
unfailing  interest  in  me  and  in  my  studies.  In  more  senses 
than  one  this  book  is  already  your  own. 

Faithfully  yours, 

Chauncey  B.  Tinker. 


PREFACE 

To  write  the  life  of  him  who  was  himself  the 
Great  Biographer  is  a  task  which  I  have  had  no 
thought  of  attempting  in  this  book.  In  the  course 
of  collecting  the  letters  of  Boswell  I  have  come 
across  a  good  many  new  incidents  in  his  career, 
which,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  might  perhaps  alter, 
or  at  least  ameliorate,  the  view  generally  held  of 
him,  and  which  might  properly  be  made  the  sub- 
ject of  a  group  of  connected  essays.  In  each  essay 
there  is,  I  think,  a  good  deal  of  new  information, 
for  the  sources  of  which  I  refer  the  reader  to  my 
forthcoming  edition  of  Boswell's  correspondence. 
But  though  a  large  part  of  my  material  is  new,  I 
have  not  hesitated  to  draw  also  upon  older  and 
more  familiar  matter.  The  quotations  from  Bos- 
well's letters  to  Temple  are  from  the  original  manu- 
script, now  in  the  possession  of  Mr.  James  Pierpont 
Morgan,  which  has  not  been  studied  since  1857.  I 
take  this  opportunity  of  thanking  Mr.  Morgan  for 
permitting  me  to  copy  it.  In  using  extracts  from 
it  I  have  retained,  as  elsewhere,  Boswell's  spelling, 
but  not  his  punctuation. 

To  my  friend  Dr.  J.  T.  T.  Brown  of  Glasgow, 
who  has  been  a  lifelong  student  of  Boswell  and 
who  has  taken  a  keen  interest  in  my  labours  from 


PREFACE 

their  inception,  I  offer  my  warmest  thanks.  Mr. 
Clement  Shorter  has  kindly  permitted  me  to  reprint 
in  Chapter  ix  a  portion  of  the  essay  that  I  con- 
tributed to  the  ninth  volume  of  his  edition  of 
BoswelFs  Johnson,  as  an  introduction  to  the  Jour- 
nal of  a  Tour  to  the  Hebrides, 

In  one  way,  perhaps,  this  book  may  be  unique. 
James  Boswell  has  fared  rather  badly  at  the  hands 
of  most  people  who  have  written  about  him.  For 
myself,  I  frankly  admit  that  I  have  enjoyed  my 
association  with  him,  and  that  I  have  had  no  desire 
either  to  patronise  him  or  to  sit  in  judgment  on  his 
occasional  lapses  from  social  propriety  and  moral 
standards.  That  Boswell  was  at  times  a  very  fool- 
ish young  man  any  reader  may  see ;  but  he  was  not, 
I  think,  so  foolish  as  many  of  his  critics  have  been. 
When  all  is  said,  he  had  genius,  and  of  that  I  have 
tried  to  make  a  sympathetic  study,  preferring  to 
err,  if  I  must  err,  on  the  side  of  appreciation. 

C.  B.  T. 

Yale  Univerbitt 
February  23,  1922. 


CONTENTS 

I.   Young  Boswell  ....  1 

II.   In  Holland  and  Germany       .        .  27 

III.  With  the  French  Philosophers     .  49 

IV.  Boswell  and  Wilkes         ...  64 
V.   Boswell    and    his    Elders:    Lord 

AuCHINLECK,SlR  ALEXANDER  DiCK, 

General  Paoli         .        .        .        .92 

VI.  In  Love 117 

VII.  Wooing  a  Wife   .       .       .       .       .  138 

VIII.   The  Social  Genius  of  Boswell    .  165 

IX.   Journal-keeping  and  Journal-pub-  • 

LISHING 192 

X.  The  Magnum  Opus     .       .       .       .  220 

XL  The  Master  of  Auchinleck  .       .  239 

Index 257 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

James  Boswell         ....  .        Frontispiece 

Engraving  by  William  Daniell  (1808)  from  a  portrait  by 
George  Dance  (1793) 

Facsimile  of  Title-page  of  "An  Ode  to  Tragedy"        2 

Boswell's  Crest 8 

Ruins  of  the  Old  Castle,  Auchinleck  ...         8 

Boswell's  Inscription  in  his  Copy  of  "The  Gov- 
ernment OF  the  Tongue" 16 

Signature  of  Boswell,  mt.  18 26 

The  Savage  Man 60 

Caricature  of  Rousseau,  the  Apostle  of  Nature,  with  Hume 
and  Voltaire 

John  Wilkes 64 

"Bozzy" 110 

Engraving  by  F.  Holl,  from  a  sketch  by  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence 

Facsimile  of  Title-page  of  "British  Essays  in 
Favour  of  the  Brave  Corsicans"  .       .  114 

Isabella  de  Zuylen,  later  Madame  de  Charriere     124 

The  Biographer  in  Meditation         ....     126 

Engraving  by  W.  T.  Green,  from  a  sketch  by  George  Langton 

Boswell  in  Corsican  Attire 160 

Boswell's   Inscription   in   a    Copy   of   Anthony 

Horneck's  "The  Fire  of  the  Altar"     .       .     168 

Facsimile  of  Letter  from  Boswell  to  Goldsmith 
ON  "She  Stoops  to  Conquer"        .        .        .     174-177 

Inscription  in  Boswell's  Copy  of  Jaussin's  "Me- 
MoiRE  de  la  Corse"  191 

Facsimile  of  a  Page  from  Boswell's  Note-Book, 
1776  . 196 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Johnson,  the  Bear,  in  the  Conduct  of  Boswell  213 

Revising  for  the  Second  Edition  .        .        .216 

The  Biographers  (Mrs.  Piozzi,  John  Courtenay, 

Boswell) 224 

Edmond  Malone 230 

A   Cancelled  Reference   to   Goldsmith   in   the 

Proof-sheets  of  the  "Life" 233 

Proof-sheet  of  the  "Life,"  first  revise  .       .  234 

Proof-sheet  of  the  "Life":     last  page  of  "Ad- 
vertisement," OR  Preface,  first  revise     .       .  235 

Boswell's  Seal  or  Book-plate 238 

The  Master  of  Auchinleck 240 

Engraving  by  E.  Finden  from  portrait  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds 

The  Manor  of  Auchinleck 244 

Inscription  in  a  Presentation  Copy  of  the  second 

edition  of  the  "Life" 249 

Boswell's  Crest 255 


CHRONOLOGY 

1740.     Bom,  October  29,  at  Edinburgh. 

1758.  Earliest  specimens  of  his  correspondence  with 

William  Temple. 

1759.  Enters  class  in  Moral  Philosophy  under  Adam 

Smith  at  Glasgow  University. 

1760.  First  Visit  to  London. 

1761.  Returns  to  Edinburgh. 
Publishes  an  "Ode  to  Tragedy." 

1763.  Second  Visit  to  London. 

Publishes  his  correspondence  with  Andrew  Ers- 
kine. 

Meets  Samuel  Johnson  "in  the  back  shop  of  Mr. 
Thomas  Davies,  the  bookseller,  in  Russell 
Street,  Covent  Garden,"  May  16. 

Studies  law  at  Utrecht. 

1764.  At  Berlin. 
Visits  Geneva. 

Meets  Rousseau  at  Motiers. 
Meets  Voltaire  at  Ferney. 

1765.  Meets  Wilkes  in  Italy. 

In  Corsica.     Intimacy  with  General  Paoli. 

1766.  Returns  to  London ;  and  then  to  Scotland. 
Admitted  to  the  bar  in  Edinburgh,  July  26. 

1768.     Publishes  "An  Account  of  Corsica,  with  Mem- 
oirs of  General  Paoli." 
Visits  London. 


CHRONOLOGY 

1769.    Publishes  "British  Essays  in  favour  of  the  Brave 
Corsicans,"  by  several  hands. 
Marries  his  cousin,  Margaret  Montgomery  of 
Lainshaw. 

1773.    Elected  to  Literary  Club,  April  30. 

Visits  the  Hebrides  with  Dr.  Johnson,  August 
18-November  22. 

1782.     Succeeds  to  his  father's  estate. 

1784.  Death  of  Samuel  Johnson. 

1785.  Publishes    "A   Journal    of   the    Tour    to   the 

Hebrides." 

1785.  Takes  up  his  residence  in  London. 

1786.  Called  to  the  English  bar. 

1790.  Defeated  for  Parliament. 

1791.  Publishes  the  "Life  of  Johnson,"  May  16. 

1793.    Publishes  the  second  edition  of  the  "Life  of 
Johnson." 

1795.    Dies,  May  19. 


YOUNG  BOSWELL 


YOUNG  BOSWELL 

CHAPTER  I 

YOUNG  BOSWELL 

You  will  laugh  at  my  whim  and  be  sorry  for  my  weakness. 
—  BoswELL  to  Temple,  12  July,  1763. 

One  of  the  rarest  books  in  the  world  is  a  thin 
volume  in  quarto,  called  "An  Ode  to  Tragedy," 
and  described  on  the  title-page  as  the  work  of  "a 
Gentleman  of  Scotland."  It  is  one  of  the  earliest 
of  James  Boswell's  fugitive  works,  and  appeared 
at  Edinburgh  as  a  sixpenny  pamphlet  in  the  year 
1761,  although,  by  an  odd  error  in  proof-reading, 
the  date  on  the  title-page  is  1661.  The  author, 
who  was  but  twenty  years  of  age,  was  certainly 
no  poet.  Kc  aspired,  he  announced,  to  soar  on 
pinions  bold,  "and,  like  the  skylark,  at  heaven's 
gate  to  sing " ;  but  his  mechanical  verses  proved 
to  be  as  dull  as  a  music-box.  There  is,  to  be  sure, 
a  description  of  Garrick  in  the  role  of  King  Lear, 
which  one  reads  with  a  sort  of  interest  because  of 
the  intimacy  which  was  later  to  exist  between 
Boswell  and  the  actor ;  and  there  are  references  to 
Mason  and  the  elder  Sheridan  which  are  worth  a 


A  N 


ODE 


T  O 


TRAGEDY. 


By  a  Gentleman  of  Scotland. 


/ 


EDINBURGH: 

Printed  by  A.  Donaldson  and  J.  R  e  i  p. 

For  Alex.  Donaldson* 

MDCLXL 


[Price  Six  Pence.] 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  3 

glance  ;  but  it  is  not  in  such  allusions  that  the  value 
of  the  book  consists.  The  remarkable  thing  about 
it  is  its  Dedication.  It  is  inscribed  to  James  Bos- 
well,  Esq.  The  author,  with  a  humour  worthy  of  a 
more  famous  publication,  has  genially  dedicated 
the  book  to  himself. 

But,  one  asks,  was  the  reader  supposed  to  dis- 
cover the  jest?  Boswell,  I  fancy,  did  not  greatly 
care,  one  way  or  the  other.  He  had  given  the 
reader  a  hint  that  he  was  up  to  mischief,  for  he 
wrote  in  the  dedicatory  letter :  "  I  make  no  doubt. 
Sir,  but  you  consider  me  as  your  very  good  friend ; 
although  some  people  —  and  those,  too,  not  desti- 
tute of  wisdom  —  will  not  scruple  to  insinuate 
the  contrary."  If  the  reader  were  sharp-witted 
enough  to  detect  the  imposture,  he  would  cer- 
tainly spread  the  news  of  his  discovery,  and  with 
it  the  fame  of  the  young  author.  But  if  he  missed 
the  point,  Boswell  would  be  no  loser,  for  he  would 
then  be  regarded  as  the  poet's  patron.  In  either 
case,  it  might  be  hoped,  people  would  talk  about 
James  Boswell.  Perhaps,  on  the  whole,  he  pre- 
ferred the  reputation  of  patron  to  that  of  poet,  for 
he  was  ever  ambitious  to  be  deemed  a  Maecenas 
—  a  sufficiently  rare  ambition  in  a  youth  of  twenty 
summers.  Indeed,  he  had  already  appeared  in  this 
role.  His  friend,  Francis  Gentleman,  an  actor  of 
Glasgow,  had  published  an  edition  of  the  well-known 


4  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

tragedy  of  "Oroonoco*'  in  the  previous  year,  and 
had  dedicated  it  to  Boswell ;  the  young  man  has 
been  suspected,  not  without  reason,  of  having  writ- 
ten the  dedicatory  verses  himself.  Moreover,  when, 
a  few  years  later,  his  friend  Derrick  (Beau  Nash's 
successor  as  Master  of  Ceremonies  at  Bath)  pub- 
lished a  series  of  letters  descriptive  of  Ireland  and 
of  the  English  Lakes,  Boswell  persuaded  him  to 
address  one  of  them  to  "James  Boswell,  Esq.,  of 
Authenleck  [so  Derrick  misprinted  the  name], 
North-Britain."  It  is  clear  that  Boswell's  ambition 
was  peculiar.  He  desired  to  be  known  as  the  asso- 
ciate of  authors.  The  glory,  to  his  way  of  thinking, 
is  to  move  in  the  world  of  literary  men,  to  know 
what  is  going  on,  and  in  time,  perhaps,  to  become 
an  influence  in  the  lives  of  these  great  ones.  It  was 
his  ambition  to  shine,  but  he  preferred  to  shine  in 
a  reflected  light.  Many  years  after,  a  relative  re- 
marked, "  He  preferred  being  a  showman  to  keep- 
ing a  shop  of  his  own." 

This  ruling  passion  of  Boswell's  —  the  passion 
not  to  occupy  the  throne,  or  even  to  be  the  power 
behind  it,  but  to  stand  near  the  throne  as  the 
monarch's  acknowledged  friend  —  is  a  sufficiently 
unusual  phenomenon,  and  harshly  has  it  been 
judged.  It  would  be  interesting  to  speculate  why 
Boswell's  desire  to  associate  with  men  of  genius 
should  have  moved  the  critics  to  violent  indig- 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  5 

nation.  It  is  surely  a  little  odd  that  a  man  who 
has  provided  the  world  with  two  of  the  most 
delightful,  profitable,  and  amusing  books  of  all 
time  should  have  been  denounced  as  a  toad-eater 
and  a  lick-spittle.  One  would  think  that  the 
means  by  which  he  developed  his  innate  genius 
might  have  been  studied  with  seriousness,  if  not 
with  sympathy,  and  that  what  most  critics  have 
been  content  to  call  an  appetite  for  notoriety 
might  have  been  discovered  by  the  discriminating 
to  be,  in  truth,  a  commendable  ambition.  But  the 
fact  is  that  few  critics  have  been  fitted  to  under- 
stand, much  less  to  interpret,  Boswell's  curious 
sense  of  humour.  He  was  a  man  who  not  only 
enjoyed  a  joke,  but  enjoyed  it  the  more  when  it 
was  directed  at  himself.  He  was  not  unwilling  to 
be  the  butt,  provided  only  that  there  might  be  wit 
and  hilarity.  In  the  year  following  the  appearance 
of  his  "Ode  to  Tragedy,"  he  published  another 
poem,  celebrating  his  social  exploits  in  London, 
entitled  "The  Cub  at  Newmarket,"  and  dedicated 
to  the  Duke  of  York.  "  Permit  me  to  let  the  world 
know,"  he  remarked  in  the  Dedication,  "that  the 
same  cub  has  been  laughed  at  by  the  Duke  of 
York."  Boswell  was,  and  ever  remained,  willing  to 
sacrifice  himself  that  the  company  might  laugh. 

And  now,  O  reader,  if  all  this  disgusts  or  pains 
you,  pray  close  the  book  and  read  in  it  no  more. 


6  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

for  the  story  of  James  Boswell  is  not  for  you. 
There  are  serious  and  admirable  books  for  those 
who  wish  to  associate  with  an  author  who  is  con- 
sistently modest  and  dignified,  and  who,  if  he 
indulges  in  humour,  never  forgets  to  maintain  a 
certain  propriety,  lest  the  reader  call  him  a  fool. 
But  the  story  of  James  Boswell  is  for  those  who 
are  ready  and  able  to  realise  that  greatness  may  be 
linked  with  folly  or,  indeed,  spring  out  of  it. 

If,  then,  association  with  the  Great  on  terms  of 
easy  intimacy  was  the  ambition  of  his  youth,  it 
was  no  more  than  he  had  a  right  to  feel  that  he 
might  achieve.  He  was  no  social  upstart.  Noth- 
ing could  be  further  from  the  truth  than  to  con- 
ceive of  him  as  coming  out  of  some  vague  middle 
class,  with  a  cheap  desire  to  raise  himself  by 
catching  at  the  skirts  of  the  eminent.  If  it  were 
permissible  to  employ  the  standards  of  fine  society, 
it  would  not  be  unfair  to  say  that  in  the  association 
with  Johnson  it  was  Boswell  who  conferred  upon 
the  older  man  the  social  distinction.  A  descendant 
of  Robert  the  Bruce,  with  the  blood  of  half  a 
dozen  earls  flowing  in  his  veins,  might,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  be  pardoned  for  aspiring  to  associate  with 
the  son  of  a  country  bookseller !  There  was,  of 
course,  a  difference  in  age,  nationality,  and  achieve- 
ment that  must  be  reckoned  with;  but,  allowing 
for  all  this,  there  was  no  reason  why  young  Boswell 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  7 

should  hesitate  to  claim  his  right  to  enter  the  most 
distinguished  society  of  the  realm. 

His  father,  Alexander  Boswell  of  Auchinleck, 
was  one  of  the  most  prominent  members  of  the 
landed  gentry  of  Southern  Scotland,  and  an  advo- 
cate of  high  distinction.  Upon  his  elevation  to 
the  judicial  bench,  he  had  assumed,  according  to 
Scottish  custom,  the  title  of  Lord  Auchinleck.^ 
His  estate  at  Auchinleck,  in  Ayrshire,  had  been 
conferred  upon  his  ancestor,  Thomas  Boswell,  by 
royal  grant  in  1504.  This  founder  of  a  long  line 
had  been  killed  in  battle  at  Flodden  Field,  together 
with  the  sovereign  who  had  been  his  benefactor. 
Nor  was  Boswell's  descent  less  distinguished  on 
his  mother's  side.  She  was  Euphemia  Erskine, 
through  whom  he  might  claim  kinship  with  the 
Earls  of  Mar  and  Dundonald.  Finally,  as  he 
proudly  relates,  from  his  great  grandfather,  Alex- 
ander, Earl  of  Kincardine,  the  blood  of  Bruce 
flowed  in  his  veins. 

The  estate  of  the  family  had  been  judiciously 

increased  until,  in  the  days  of  Boswell,  the  laird 

of  Auchinleck  could  ride  ten  miles  forward  from 

the  door  of  his  house  without  leaving  his  own 

land;  upon  this  vast  tract  were  no  less  than  six 

^  This  title,  however,  like  episcopal  titles  in  England,  could 
not  be  inherited  ;  neither  did  it  confer  upon  the  holder's  wife 
the  privileges  of  a  peeress.  Thus  Lord  Auchinleck's  wife 
remained  "Mrs.  Boswell." 


8 


YOUNG  BOSWELL 


hundred  people,  attached  to  him  as  overlord. 
Here  Boswell's  father  had  erected  a  palace  declared 
(upon  somewhat  doubtful  local  testimony)  to  be 
the  work  of  the  Adam  brothers,  and  a  worthy  centre 
to  the  family  seat  which  it  dominated.  Above 
the  Romanesque  portal,  in  an  elaborately  carved 
tympanum,  is  the  Boswellian  crest — a  hooded  fal- 
con proper — and  other 
allegorical  symbols. 

Through  the  grounds 
flow  the  river  Lugar 
and  a  stream  called  the 
Dipple,  which  empties 
into  it.  There  are  deep 
chasms,  steep  descents  to  the  water,  and  romantic 
cliffs.  On  the  banks  of  the  Lugar  are  the  ruins 
of  the  original  castle,  and  between  these  and 
the  house,  the  remains  of  a  former  mansion. 
Boswell  told  Johnson  that  in  youth  he  had 
"appropriated  the  finest  descriptions  in  the  an- 
cient classics"  to  certain  scenes  on  his  ancestral 
estates.  Years  later,  when  Johnson  visited  the 
place,  after  the  tour  to  the  Hebrides,  he 
wrote:  "Lord  Auchinleck  has  built  a  house  of 
hewn  stone,  very  stately  and  durable,  and  has 
advanced  the  value  of  his  lands,  with  great  ten- 
derness to  his  tenants.  I  was,  however,  less  de- 
lighted with  the  elegance  of  the  modern  mansion, 


2 

"3 


-^         ill 

^  1- 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  9 

than  with  the  sullen  dignity  of  the  old  castle."  It 
was  of  this  castle  that  he  had  said,  when  Boswell 
first  described  it  to  him,  **I  must  be  there,  Sir, 
and  we  will  live  in  the  old  castle ;  and  if  there  is 
not  a  room  in  it  remaining,  we  will  build  one." 

And  yet  all  this  was  not  enough  to  satisfy  the 
young  fellow  who  was  heir  apparent  to  it  all.  It 
was  inconveniently  distant  from  cities  and  the 
haunts  of  men.  His  father  had,  to  be  sure,  a 
house  in  Edinburgh.  In  Edinburgh  James  had 
been  born ;  there  he  had  gone  to  school ;  there  for 
a  time  he  had  attended  the  university.  But  he 
longed  for  the  true  centre  of  culture  and  of  social 
life,  and  that,  he  knew,  was  London.  His  father 
knew  everybody  in  Scotland.  There  was  no  one 
there  whom  he,  too,  might  not  know.  But  the 
air  of  provinciality  galled  him,  even  in  Edinburgh. 
In  Auchinleck  it  was  intolerable. 

Over  the  main  portal  of  the  house  at  Auchin- 
leck Boswell's  father  had  had  carved  a  quotation 
from  the  Epistles  of  Horace,  in  the  choice  of 
which,  it  might  almost  seem,  he  had  his  restless 
son  in  mind :  — 

Quod  petis  hie  est. 
Est  Ulubris,  animus  si  te  non  deficit  aequus. 

Ulubrae,  a  town  near  the  Pontine  marshes  of 
Latium,  had  been  a  byword  among  the  Latin 
authors  for  its  remoteness  from  Rome,  and  Boswell 


10  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

never  scrupled  to  admit  that  he  had  not  the 
animus  cequus  necessary  to  the  enjoyment  of  a 
modern  Scottish  Ulubrae.  Even  after  it  was  his 
own,  he  referred  sarcastically  to  himself,  when 
writing  to  John  Wilkes,  as  the  "Master  of  Ulu- 
brae," and  he  remained  consistently  unwilling  to 
exile  himself  there.  Absent  from  London,  he  was 
ever  restless.  At  the  age  of  twenty,  after  his  first 
visit  to  London,  he  spoke  with  transport  of  the 
town  where  his  thoughts  of  happiness  had  "always 
centred,"  where  he  had  got  his  mind  filled  with 
the  most  "gay  ideas  —  getting  into  the  Guards, 
being  about  Court,  enjoying  the  happiness  of  the 
beau  monde,  and  the  company  of  men  of  genius." 
And  at  the  age  of  fifty-four,  when  his  days  were 
numbered,  he  wrote  to  his  brother  David  from 
Auchinleck :  — 

I  am  pleased  to  see  that  the  meeting  of  Parliament  is 
prorogued  to  the  twenty-fifth  of  November,  as  I  shall 
have  three  weeks  more  without  that  additional  impa- 
tience which  the  knowledge  of  the  town  being  full,  and 
important  affairs  agitated,  and  the  Literary  Club,  &c., 
going  on,  cannot  but  produce.  Perhaps  I  may  weather 
it  out  here  till  January.  .  .  .  How  hard  it  is  that  I  do 
not  enjoy  this  fine  place. 

But  Boswell's  desire  for  the  society  of  the  Great 
was  of  a  peculiar  kind.  To  the  titled  aristocracy 
and  to  the  merely  wealthy  he  was,  on  the  whole, 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  11 

indifferent,  unless  they  had  something  other  to 
offer  than  rank  or  riches.  At  one  time  in  his  life, 
for  example,  he  was  privileged  to  meet  and  con- 
verse with  King  George  III ;  but  the  honour  seems 
to  have  made  slight  impression  on  him,  compared 
with  his  association  with  men  of  genius ;  for  he 
makes  but  the  vaguest  reference  to  it  in  his  works. 
It  was  literary  genius  that  he  desired  to  find. 

Boswell  first  comes  before  us  at  the  age  of 
seventeen  years  and  nine  months ;  his  biography 
before  that  is  a  mere  skeleton  of  dates  and  anec- 
dotes. On  July  29,  1758,  he  wrote  to  his  lifelong 
friend,  William  Temple,  the  first  of  his  letters 
which  has  come  down  to  us.  There  is  much  in  it 
about  the  reading  of  history  and  of  poetry;  but 
the  most  significant  passage,  in  the  light  of  what 
Boswell  was  destined  to  become,  is  an  account  of 
his  first  meeting  with  David  Hume.  Temple  had, 
in  some  way  or  other,  been  able  to  procure  Boswell 
an  introduction  to  him,  and  the  account  of  the 
conversation  is  a  clear  indication  of  what  Boswell 
sought  in  such  intercourse.  Hume,  who  was  al- 
most thirty  years  older  than  Boswell,  had  by  now 
attained  the  age  of  forty-seven,  and  was  engaged 
in  completing  his  "History  of  England."  In  the 
previous  year  he  had  written  his  essay  on  the 
"Natural  History  of  Religion,"  which  had  served 
to  spread  his  popular  reputation  as  an  atheist. 


n  yOUNG  BOSWELL 

Some  days  ago  [writes  Bos  well],  I  was  introduced  to 
your  friend  Mr.  Hume;  he  is  a  most  discreet,  affable 
man  as  ever  I  met  with,  and  has  realy  a  great  deal  of 
learning,  and  a  choice  collection  of  books.  He  is  indeed 
an  extraordinary  man,  few  such  people  are  to  be  met 
with  nowadays.  We  talk  a  great  deal  of  genius,  fine 
language,  improving  our  style,  etc.,  but,  I  am  afraid, 
sollid  learning  is  much  wore  out.  Mr.  Hume,  I  think, 
is  a  very  proper  person  for  a  young  man  to  cultivate  an 
acquaintance  with ;  though  he  has  not,  perhaps,  the 
most  delicate  taste,  yet  he  has  apply 'd  himself  with 
great  attention  to  the  study  of  the  ancients,  and  is 
likeways  a  great  historian,  so  that  you  are  not  only 
entertained  in  his  company,  but  may  reap  a  great  deal 
of  usefull  instruction.  I  own  myself  much  obliged  to 
you,  dear  Sir,  for  procuring  me  the  pleasure  of  his 
acquaintance. 

This,  I  submit,  is  rather  remarkable  from  a  youth 
of  seventeen,  writing  to  his  chum !  For  Boswell, 
an  ideal  association  with  an  older  man  implies 
"sollid  learning,"  delicate  taste,  useful  instruction, 
and  an  entertaining  style.  Any  modern  parent 
or  teacher  would  be  inclined  to  rest  content  with 
thus  much  ambition  in  a  boy  of  seventeen,  if, 
indeed,  he  could  rid  his  mind  of  the  fear  that  it 
was  all  a  hoax.  James  sits  in  judgment  upon  the 
qualifications  of  David  Hume,  the  philosopher, 
as  calmly — and,  perhaps,  as  discriminatingly — as 
his  father  pronounced  judgment  upon  a  poacher 
at  the  assizes.    The  boy  detected  a  lack  in  Hume, 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  13 

and  it  is  the  very  one  which  the  philosophers 
and  bluestockings  of  the  Parisian  salons  felt  in 
him  when  he  visited  them  five  years  later.  Hume 
had  not  delicacy  of  taste.  What  he  lacked  was  ur- 
banity. Madame  du  Deffand  described  him  as  a 
gros  drole,  and  Madame  Geoffrin  called  him  a  peas- 
ant. Learning,  according  to  our  youthful  critic, 
though  it  should  be  "soUid"  need  not  be  leaden.^ 

All  this  interest  in  wit  and  instructive  conver- 
sation might  easily,  it  would  seem,  have  made 
young  James  into  a  prig.  He  was  in  a  fair  way  to 
become  that  most  dreadful  of  young  things,  a  boy 
of  large  inexperience  who  fancies  himself  a  phil- 
osopher and  a  man  of  the  world.  But  he  was  in 
no  danger  of  this.  His  love  of  convivial  pleasure, 
which  later  plunged  him  into  gulfs  of  misery, 
saved  him  at  least  from  this.  He  had  as  much 
difficulty  as  any  schoolboy  ever  had  in  sticking  to 
his  studies;  just  as,  later  on,  he  found  it  impos- 

1  Years  did  not  change  the  original  impression  which 
Boswell  formed  of  the  conversation  of  David  Hume,  He 
heard  him  talk  often,  but  seldom  found  anything  very  pointed 
or  profound  to  record.  Nearly  thirty  years  later,  he  wrote  : 
"He  was  cheerful,  obliging  and  instructive ;  he  was  charitable 
to  the  poor ;  and  many  an  agreeable  hour  have  I  passed  with 
him.  I  have  preserved  some  entertaining  and  interesting 
memoirs  of  him,  particularly  when  he  knew  himself  to  be 
dying,  which  I  may,  some  time  or  other,  communicate  to  the 
world."  But  it  is  significant  that  there  was  never  sufficient 
interest  to  spur  him  to  the  fulfillment  of  his  promise. 


14  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

sible  to  stick  to  any  course  of  reading  that  he  might 
lay  out  for  himseK.  His  mind  was  eager  and 
curious,  rather  than  progressive.  He  resided,  for 
brief  periods,  at  Edinburgh  University  and  at 
Glasgow  University,  but  in  both  places  his  social 
instincts  defeated  anything  like  an  orderly  educa- 
tion. He  had,  it  is  true,  more  learning,  liberal 
and  professional,  than  his  critics  and  biographers 
have  been  willing  to  allow  him ;  but  his  passion 
for  companionship  kept  him  always  on  the  rove. 
At  one  time  he  attached  himself  to  Sir  David 
Dalrymple;  at  another  time,  to  a  company  of 
actors.  He  knew  no  rest  until  he  found  his  rest  in 
Johnson. 

And  who  shall  say  that  he  was  wrong?  After 
all  possible  perfection  of  systems  and  courses  of 
study  and  methods  of  instruction,  liberal  educa- 
tion remains  a  personal  relationship.  Who  would 
not  barter  the  methods  of  all  the  schools  for  a  con- 
versation with  Socrates  ?  Boswell's  relations  with 
Johnson,  in  which  he  found,  not  merely  wit  and 
instruction,  but  stimulus  to  achievement  and  the 
awakening  of  powers  within  himself  which  he  had 
never  realised,  are  a  vindication  of  that  instinct 
within  him  which  drove  him  to  seek  out  the 
society  of  men  of  letters.  To  assert  that  Boswell 
found  in  such  society  the  fulfillment  of  the  intel- 
lectual life  of  which  he  had  dreamed  is  not  to  say 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  15 

that  every  bluestocking  and  moonstruck  young 
philosopher  can  do  the  same.  The  distinctive 
feature  in  Boswell  is  the  capacity  for  realising  and 
using  the  richness  of  the  life  to  which  he  was  ad- 
mitted. For  this,  as  we  shall  see  later,  he  was 
specially  qualified. 

Another  force  which  tended  to  keep  him  from 
priggishness  was  a  nawete  the  equal  of  which  it 
would  be  difficult  to  discover.  Pepys's  was  no  lar- 
ger, though  it  was  more  natural ;  Rousseau's  was 
no  larger,  though  it  was  less  comic.  Perhaps  no 
better  illustration  of  it  can  be  given  than  the  in- 
scription which  he  himself  wrote  in  a  copy  of  a 
book  called  "The  Government  of  the  Tongue,"  — 
"Presented  to  me  by  my  worthy  freind,  Bennet 
Langton,  Esq :  of  Langton,  as  a  Book  by  which  I 
might  be  much  improved,  viz.  by  the  Government 
of  the  Tongue.  He  gave  me  the  Book  and  hoped  I 
would  read  that  treatise ;  but  said  no  more.  I  have 
expressed  in  words  what  I  beleive  was  his  meaning. 
It  was  a  delicate  admonition."  A  naive  person,  I 
suppose,  is  one  who,  being  profoundly  interested 
in  his  own  personality,  makes  the  unwarranted 
assumption  that  other  people  are  similarly  inter- 
ested in  it.  A  few  sentences  from  an  early  letter 
to  Sir  David  Dalrymple,  regarding  the  approaching 
sojourn  in  Utrecht,  are,  it  seems  to  me,  a  classical 
example  of  nawete :  — 


'^'Pr-^yt- 


/A-  —^^^ 


BosweWs  Inscription  in  his  copy  of      The  Government 
qfthe  Tongue  " 


YOUNG  BOS  WELL  17 

My  great  object  is  to  attain  a  proper  conduct  in  life. 
How  sad  will  it  be,  if  I  turn  no  better  than  I  am.  I 
have  much  vivacity,  which  leads  me  to  dissipation  and 
folly.  This,  I  think,  I  can  restrain.  But  I  will  be 
moderate,  and  not  aim  at  a  stiff  sageness  and  buckram 
correctness.  I  must,  however,  own  to  you  that  I  have 
at  bottom  a  melancholy  cast ;  which  dissipation  re- 
lieves by  making  me  thoughtless,  and  therefore,  an 
easier,  though  a  more  contemptible  animal.  I  dread 
a  return  of  this  malady.  I  am  always  apprehensive 
of  it.  Pray  tell  me  if  Utrecht  be  a  place  of  a  dull  and 
severe  cast,  or  if  it  be  a  place  of  decency  and  chearfull 
politeness  ?  Tell  me,  too,  if  years  do  not  strengthen  the 
mind,  and  make  it  less  susceptible  of  being  hurt  ?  and 
if  having  a  rational  object  will  not  keep  up  my  spirits  ? 

There  are  those  who  find  in  such  an  utterly 
frank  revelation  of  what  is  going  on  in  a  human 
breast  something  quite  captivating.  They  learn 
to  laugh  at  it  without  sneering  at  it.  So,  we  may 
imagine,  did  Sir  David.  When  Madame  du  Def- 
fand  read  the  "Tour  to  Corsica,"  she  declared 
herself  (to  Horace  Walpole,  of  all  people),  '' ex- 
tremement  contente'' ;  and  elsewhere,  "J'aime  I'au- 
teur  a  la  folic ;  son  coeur  est  excellent,  son  ame  est 
pleine  de  vertus ;  je  vais  etre  en  garde  a  ne  pas 
laisser  voir  I'engouement  que  j'ai  de  son  ouvrage." 
The  blind  sibyl  of  the  Parisian  salons,  who  had 
spent  her  life  with  sophistication,  knew  well  the 
value  of  naivete  —  and  the  wisdom  of  concealing  it. 


18  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Of  the  melancholy  which  Boswell  describes  to 
Sir  David,  and  which  he  links  with  his  dissipation, 
something  must  be  said,  if  only  for  the  reason  that 
Boswell  himself  said  so  much  of  it.  He  perpet- 
ually insisted  that  he  was,  at  bottom,  a  melancholy 
man.  The  fear  of  it  was  ever  present  in  his  mind ; 
it  darkened  his  youth,  and  it  shrouded  his  latter 
days  in  misery.  He  described  its  symptoms  to  all 
his  friends,  and  made  pathetic  appeals  to  them  to 
help  him  get  the  better  of  it.  All  this,  not  unnat- 
urally, bored  his  friends  exceedingly,  for  friends 
do  not  care  to  hear  of  your  blues  and  your  fore- 
bodings. It  may  be  the  duty  of  friends  to  help 
you  bear  your  burden,  but  if  you  wish  to  retain 
them,  it  is  best  to  bear  it  yourself  without  help. 
Perhaps  Boswell's  friends  would  have  been  more 
indulgent  if  the  victim's  melancholy  had  not  taken 
flight  immediately  upon  their  arrival,  whereupon 
they  kindly  assumed  that  his  woes  were  imaginary. 
Perhaps  they  were.  But  what  misery  is  more 
dreadful  than  that  which  resides  in  the  imagina- 
tion alone  ?    Are  not  the  insane  so  afflicted  ? 

Again,  it  is  true  that  Boswell's  melancholy  was 
of  that  strikingly  familiar  kind  which  descends 
upon  us  just  as  we  approach  some  period  of  pro- 
tracted work.  His  spirits  always  revived  at  the 
prospect  of  a  holiday.  In  a  word,  our  Boswell  was 
lazy.     But  this  is  not  an  end  of  the  matter.     If 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  19 

your  friend  is  sick,  it  may  be  that  there  is  a  remedy 
that  will  restore  him  to  health;  but  so  long  as  he 
does  not  use  it,  he  will  remain  sick.  It  may  well 
be  that  Boswell's  melancholy  was  of  a  sort  which 
afflicts  the  majority  of  men,  and  which  the  majority 
of  men  get  rid  of  by  a  little  dogged  pluck ;  but  the 
fact  remains  that  Boswell  did  not  get  rid  of  his, 
except  at  moments,  and  we  shall  understand  him 
the  better  if  we  do  not  belittle  his  suffering.  Imag- 
inary or  not,  it  was  there,  and  there  it  remained. 
He  talked  about  it  too  much,  and  for  that  his 
friends  have  found  it  hard  to  forgive  him. 

The  letter  that  follows  was  addressed  to  one  of 
his  dearest  friends,  but  one  of  whom  the  readers 
of  his  biography  know  little — John  Johnston  of 
Grange.  He  was,  as  the  following  letter  makes 
evident,  a  boyhood  friend,  who  had  become  a 
solicitor  and  who  had  taken  charge  of  Boswell's 
private  affairs  during  his  absence  from  Scotland. 
There  was  nothing  literary  about  the  friendship 
between  the  two,  and  therefore  Boswell  never  had 
occasion  to  mention  Johnston,  as  he  did  almost 
all  his  other  friends,  when  he  published  the  "Life 
of  Johnson."  But  Johnston  was  apparently  a 
quiet  and  affectionate  person,  and  is  mentioned 
in  the  letters  several  times  as  "worthy  Grange." 
This  is  the  only  letter  of  Boswell's  to  him  which 
is  known  to  exist. 


20  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

London,  30  June^  1763. 
My  dear  Friend,  — 

I  have  been  dissapolnted  in  not  hearing  from  you  a 
second  time  before  now,  and  as  I  intended  to  answer 
that  expected  letter,  I  have  delayed  writing  for  a  post 
or  two. 

I  hope  you  approve  of  my  plan  of  going  abroad.  I 
never  could  be  able  to  make  anything  of  my  army 
schemes.  My  father's  rooted  aversion  would  have 
allways  prevented  me  from  rising  in  that  way.  By 
falling  in  with  his  schemes,  I  make  him  easy  and  happy, 
and  I  have  a  better  prospect  of  doing  well  in  the  world, 
as  I  will  have  no  up-hill  work,  but  all  will  go  smooth. 
I  have  had  a  letter  from  my  father  in  which  he  ex- 
presses much  affection,  and  declares  that  he  has  not 
had  so  much  satisfaction  these  four  years.  I  wish 
from  my  heart  that  I  may  be  able  to  make  myself  a 
Man,  and  to  become  steady  and  sensible  in  my  conduct. 
But,  alas,  this  miserable  melancholy  is  allways  weigh- 
ing me  down,  and  rendering  me  indifferent  to  all 
pursuits.  For  these  two  days  past,  I  have  been  very 
bad  (owing  to  thick,  rainy  weather)  and  have  been 
viewing  all  things  in  the  most  dissagreeable  light.  I 
have  now  got  relief  and  am  pretty  easy  and  chearfull. 
I  sympath[ise]  very  heartily  with  your  distress.  It  is 
indeed  a  most  severe  affliction.  You  are  right  in  think- 
ing that  we  cannot  drive  it  away.  I  advise  you  to 
study  it  carefully.  Observe  its  effects,  and  find  out 
by  what  methods  to  render  yourself  tollerably  easy 
while  it  lasts.  What  I  want  to  do  is  to  bring  myself 
to  that  aequality  of  behaviour  that,  whether  my 
spirits  are  high  or  low,  people  may  see  little  odds  upon 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  21 

me.  I  am  pers waded  that  when  I  can  restrain  my 
flightiness  and  keep  an  even  external  tenour,  that  my 
mmd  will  attain  a  settled  serenity.  My  dear  friend ! 
do  all  you  can  to  keep  free  of  it.  Mix  business  and 
amusement,  so  that  your  mind  may  be  allways  em- 
ployed and  no  time  left  for  the  gloomy  broodings  of  a 
distempered  fancy. 

My  father  inclines  that  I  should  pass  next  winter  at 
Utrecht  and  afterwards  proceed  to  the  south  of  Europe. 
At  Utrecht  I  am  told  that  I  shall  have  a  most  beautifull 
city  to  live  in;  very  genteel  people  to  be  acquainted 
with ;  an  opportunity  of  learning  the  French  language, 
and  easy  opportunity  of  jaunting  about  to  the  Hague, 
Roterdam,  and,  in  short,  up  and  down  all  the  seven 
Provinces.  I  am  also  to  hear  the  lectures  on  civil  law, 
and  put  myself  on  the  plan  of  acquiring  a  habit  of  study 
and  application.  Too  much  of  that  would  be  bad  for 
me.  But  idleness  is  still  worse.  And  now,  my  friend, 
don't  you  think  that  I  am  upon  a  better  plan  than 
forcing  myself  into  the  Guards,  in  time  of  peace,  where 
I  should  be  continaly  fighting  —  not  against  the 
French  —  but  against  my  father's  inclination  ?  Don't 
you  think,  too,  that  I  am  now  upon  a  more  independent 
and  extensive  plan,  and  that  a  Man  with  such  a  mind 
as  I  have  should  rather  embrace  soft  measures  ?  My 
dear  Johnston !  you  may  figure  the  many  spirited,  gay 
ideas  which  I  entertain  when  I  consider  that  I  am  now 
a  young  man  of  fortune,  just  going  to  set  out  on  his 
travels.  That  time  which  I  have  often  at  a  distance 
looked  forward  to  is  arrived.  My  father  wants  to  have 
me  go  as  soon  as  possible.  So  that  I  shall  set  out  in  a 
fortnight  or  less. 


22  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

As  to  my  affairs,  Love  has  payed  me  £10,  and  still 
owes  me  £30,  which  I  believe  I  must  allow  to  lie  over  a 
little.  My  boy's  maintenance,  I  imagine,  will  come  to 
£10  a  year.  I  have  a  notion  to  make  out  three  bills, 
each  of  that  sum,  which  I  will  cause  Love  sign,  payable 
at  different  future  terms,  and  these  I  will  indorse  to 
you ;  so  that  you  can  be  supplied  from  time  to  time.  I 
am  anxious  to  hear  of  Charles.  Meet  with  Cairnie  and 
get  his  accounts  of  him.  I  shall  send  you  some  journal 
next  Tuesday.  You  shall  hear  every  post  from  me  now 
till  I  leave  Britain.     I  ever  am 

Your  sincere  friend, 
James  Boswell. 

K  letters  went  astray,  as  they  do  in  the  old 
comedies,  and  this  one  had  been  delivered  into  the 
hands  of  the  Laird  of  Auchinleck,  instead  of  to 
John  Johnston  of  Grange,  what  a  rumpus  there 
would  have  been !  From  the  first  word  to  the 
last,  this  letter,  despite  its  easy  chatter,  is  strictly 
secret  intelligence,  by  no  means  intended  for  the 
eye  or  ear  of  parents.  "Jaunting  about  to  the 
Hague  and  Roterdam,"  indeed!  "Up  and  down 
all  the  Seven  Provinces,"  quotha  !  James  Boswell 
was  being  sent  to  Holland  to  read  the  law,  and  he 
knew  it.  Nothing  had  been  said,  we  must  believe, 
about  those  "very  genteel  people"  he  hoped  to 
meet,  and  no  promise  had  been  extracted  from  the 
father  by  which  one  might  be  justified  in  asserting 
that  it  was  planned  that  he  should  afterwards 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  23 

*' proceed"  to  the  south  of  Europe.  To  the  Laird 
of  Auchinleck  it  is  all  strictly  practical.  James  is 
being  sent  to  Utrecht  to  acquire  a  professional 
education ;  he  is  not  being  sent  off  on  the  Grand 
Tour.  He  had  wasted  his  time  and  opportunities 
when  he  had  been  put  to  the  work  in  Scotland, 
and  now  some  other  plan  must  be  tried.  But  as 
for  holiday  junketings  .  .  . 

And  now  note  the  skill  with  which  youth  goes 
at  the  management  of  parents.  Nothing  had  come 
of  Boswell's  proposal  to  get  a  commission  in  the 
Guards.  Part  of  the  attractiveness  of  the  propo- 
sal, anyhow,  was  that  the  road  to  a  commission 
led  immediately  to  London.  And  then  his  father 
had  grumbled  and  protested  from  the  beginning. 
Dreams  of  martial  glory  must  be  laid  aside.  But 
not  without  getting  something  for  them.  The 
plan  is  to  sell  them  to  the  father  for  the  Grand 
Tour  through  Europe,  "proceeding"  as  far  as 
Rome,  or  —  who  knows  ?  —  Corsica.  Seem  to  fall 
in  with  your  father's  plans.  The  first  thing  to  do  is 
to  regain  the  parental  favour.  The  first  step  to- 
ward the  Grand  Tour  is  to  get  a  foothold  on  the 
Continent.  It  is  unfortunate  that  it  must  be 
Utrecht,  but  perhaps  something  can  be  made  of 
Utrecht.  At  any  rate,  there  will  be  the  opportu- 
nity of  learning  —  the  French  language.  There  are 
the  Seven  Provinces  to  go  jaunting  about  in,  and, 


24  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

in  the  distance,  after  a  year,  Italy  and  Rome.  "I 
am  also  to  hear  lectures  on  civil  law."  —  O  Jemmy 
Boswell,  Jemmy  Boswell,  O  ! 

But  before  one  makes  off  to  Europe,  to  be  gone, 
perhaps,  three  years,  one  settles  one's  private 
affairs ;  and  hence  this  letter  to  the  young  solicitor- 
friend.  Love  has  not  yet  paid  up.  Love  was 
one  of  Boswell's  actor-friends  and  former  heroes, 
who  is  remembered  as  the  man  who  first  urged 
him  to  keep  a  journal.  If  Love  should  pay  the 
thirty  pounds  which  he  still  owes,  the  money  may 
be  applied  to  another  object. 

*'My  boy's  maintenance,  I  imagine,  will  come 
to  £10  a  year."  In  the  good  old  days  of  Samuel 
Pepys,  the  care  of  an  illegitimate  child  "for  ever" 
cost  a  man  £5.  Moll  Flanders,  it  may  be  recalled, 
got  rid  of  her  child  by  an  initial  expense  of  £10. 
And  now,  in  the  year  of  our  Lord  1763,  the  charge 
has  risen  to  £10  annually.  Or  was  it  that  Boswell, 
who,  as  we  shall  see  later,  had  as  much  fatherly 
pride  in  his  offspring  as  Robert  Burns,  had  pro- 
vided for  his  youngster  some  superior  "accommo- 
dations" ?  Charles  is,  very  probably,  the  name  of 
this  "boy,"  Cairnie,  not  impossibly,  that  of  his 
caretaker.  I  cannot  tell.  It  is  now  probably  too 
late  to  identify  them.  At  any  rate,  I  have  not  suc- 
ceeded in  doing  so. 

"My    boy's    maintenance."     Poor    little    boy! 


YOUNG  BOSWELL  25 

Poor  little  waif  flung  out  at  random,  on  the  great 
sea  of  life,  with  ten  pounds  a  year  for  maintenance  ! 
What  your  life  was,  lost  among  the  peasants  of 
southern  Scotland,  who  shall  guess?  Your  lot 
is  less  distinguished  than  that  of  Wordsworth's 
French  daughter,  for  no  books  can  be  written  about 
you.  But  your  mere  existence  tells  us  something 
about  your  father  that  we  did  not  know  before. 
His  melancoly  had,  it  is  clear,  a  very  real  foun- 
dation, which  has  hitherto  been  overlooked.  His 
pious  relatives  would  have  called  it  sin  and  the 
wages  of  sin.  The  young  fellow,  who  had  reached 
the  age  of  twenty-two,  must  indeed  have  felt  that, 
in  enjoying  the  pleasures  of  this  world,  he  had 
moved  at  a  rather  rapid  pace,  and  that  the  conse- 
quences of  that  pace  were  becoming  a  burden. 
Hence  the  promises  of  reform,  and  the  determina- 
tion to  become  "steady  and  sensible"  in  his 
conduct. 

And  so,  having  settled  his  affairs  as  best  might 
be,  under  circumstances  not  wholly  satisfactory, 
and  having  brought  his  father  to  a  state  of  mind 
more  or  less  hopeful,  in  which  he  might  be  amen- 
able to  later  proposals  for  James's  junketing  about 
the  Seven  Provinces,  Germany,  Switzerland,  and 
Italy,  young  Boswell  prepared  himself  to  depart. 
A  varied  experience  awaited  him  on  the  Continent, 
and  an  enrichment  of  that  genius  which  nature 


26  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

had  bestowed  upon  Mm.  He  carried  his  luck 
with  him,  and  in  the  game  which  ensued  between 
him  and  his  father,  —  a  game  which  was  played 
with  the  Grand  Tour  for  a  stake,  —  fortune  con- 
sistently smiled  upon  the  son. 


jcL^Jjo^hye/./ys^ 


CHAPTER  II 

IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY 

James  Boswell's  attainments  in  the  law  have 
been  subjected  to  the  same  sHghting  criticism  as 
everything  else  connected  with  his  personal  life. 
It  does  not  do  to  be  too  frank  with  regard  to  your- 
self, or  you  will  find  that  the  world  is  accepting 
your  own  estimate,  or  accepting  it  at  a  discount. 
In  his  Commonplace  Book  Boswell  wrote :  — 

Boswell  had  a  great  aversion  to  the  law,  but  forced 
himself  to  enter  upon  that  laborious  profession  in  com- 
pliance with  the  anxious  desire  of  his  father,  for  whom 
he  had  the  greatest  regard.  After  putting  on  the  gown, 
he  said  with  great  good  humour  to  his  brother  advo- 
cates, "Gentlemen,  I  am  prest  into  the  service  here; 
but  I  have  observed  that  a  prest  man,  either  by  sea  or 
land,  after  a  little  time  does  just  as  well  as  a  volunteer. 

Boswell  never  liked  his  profession,  but  he  contrived 
(until  he  left  Scotland)  to  get  along  in  it.  In 
youth,  he  never  liked  the  reading  of  the  law,  but 
he  contrived  to  do  it.  Indeed,  we  may  say  that 
he  was  compelled  to  do  it.  If  definite  proof  be 
demanded,  that  proof  can  be  supplied.  Boswell's 
fee-book  is  preserved  in  the  Advocates'  Library 
at  Edinburgh,  and  an  examination  of  it  will  con- 


28  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

vince  any  one  tliat  he  was  a  busy  and  successful 
young  lawyer. 

The  assumption  that  Boswell  wasted  all  his  time 
in  those  youthful  days  when  he  was  set  at  the 
reading  of  law  is  incorrect.  It  is  caused  in  part 
by  a  passage  in  one  of  his  very  earliest  letters, 
written,  at  the  age  of  eighteen,  to  Temple,  from 
Edinburgh,  which  for  many  years  has  circulated 
in  the  following  form :  — 

I  can  assure  you  the  study  of  the  law  here  is  a  most 
laborious  task.  In  return  for  yours,  I  shall  give  you 
an  account  of  my  studies.  From  nine  to  ten  I  attend 
the  law-class ;  from  ten  to  eleven  study  at  home ;  and 
from  one  to  two  attend  a  college  upon  Roman  Antiqui- 
ties; the  afternoon  and  evening  I  likeways  spend  in 
study. 

It  would  seem  as  if  a  morning  in  which  one  hour 
was  given  to  attending  a  class  in  law  and  one  to 
studying  it  was  no  very  arduous  way  of  beginning 
the  day.  But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  first  editor 
of  the  letters  has  carelessly  dropped  out  a  trifle 
of  two  hours.     The  manuscript  reads :  — 

From  9  to  10,  I  attend  the  law  class;  from  10  to  11, 
the  Astronomy ;  from  11  to  1,  study  at  home ;  from  1  to 
2,  attend  a  college  upon  Roman  Antiquities,  etc. 

Clearly,  if  there  is  any  truth  in  this  account,  Bos- 
well could  not  easily  have  failed  to  shuffle  on  some 
knowledge. 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        29 

Dr.  J.  T.  T.  Brown,  of  Glasgow,  who  owns  Bos- 
well's  annotated  copy  of  Erskine's  "Institutes,'* 
—  itself  an  evidence  of  no  slight  industry,  —  has 
expressed  himself  in  clear  terms  respecting  Bos- 
well's  knowledge  of  the  law.  He  is  a  man  of  pro- 
found familiarity  with  that  unique  subject,  Scots 
law,  and  a  Boswellian  scholar  of  the  first  rank,  and 
we  can  do  no  better  than  listen  to  his  summary. 

It  is  a  mistake  to  suppose,  as  most  critics  do,  that 
Boswell  wholly  dissipated  the  four  years  spent  at 
Edinburgh  and  Glasgow  Universities,  and  went  to 
Utrecht  ill  prepared  to  benefit  from  tuition  there.  The 
opposite  is  true.  As  a  student  both  in  Edinburgh  and 
Glasgow  his  name  no  doubt  is  associated  with  more 
than  one  wild  frolic  and  with  some  self-indulgence  too ; 
but  the  fact  that  he  passed  his  trials  as  a  Civilian  for 
admission  to  the  Faculty  of  Advocates,  a  year  before 
he  left  home,  is  enough  of  itself  to  prove  the  quality  of 
his  attainments.  By  far  the  greater  number  of  aspiring 
advocates  obtained  admission  by  what  was  then  called 
the  Municipal  Law  examination ;  only  a  few  chose  the 
much  higher  pass  in  Civil  Law.  Lord  Auchinleck, 
besides,  had  specially  tutored  his  son  in  Roman  Law 
and  encouraged  his  studies  in  Greek  so  that  he  might 
when  in  Holland  benefit  by  Trotz's  prelections  on  the 
Theodosian  Code. 

There  were  several  reasons  for  the  choice  of 
Utrecht  as  the  place  where  Boswell  should  continue 
his  legal  studies.     In  the  first  place,  the  Dutch 


so  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

jurisconsults  were  among  the  most  learned  and 
influential  in  all  Europe,  so  that  it  was  a  common 
thing  for  young  Scottish  students  of  the  law  to 
conclude  their  training  in  Holland.  Boswell's 
father  had  himself  been  a  student  at  Leyden. 
Moreover,  Sir  David  Dalrymple,  having  been  at 
Utrecht  eighteen  years  before,  was  able  to  give 
Boswell  much  valuable  advice  respecting  the  work 
there.  It  was,  indeed.  Sir  David  who  first  suggested 
the  university  as  the  desirable  place  for  the  comple- 
tion of  Boswell's  training.  The  young  man  him- 
self would  have  preferred  a  French  academy,  but 
Sir  David  did  not  approve.  Lord  Auchinleck  gave 
an  easy  assent  to  the  proposals  of  his  brother  advo- 
cate, which  he  would  almost  certainly  have  denied 
to  any  plan  originating  with  his  son.  Again,  the 
Boswells  had  relatives  in  Holland.  Boswell's  great 
grandmother,  the  Countess  of  Kincardine,  was  of 
Dutch  birth,  and  a  member  of  the  "  noble  house  of 
Sommelsdyck."  "The  family,"  writes  Boswell  in 
the  "Tour  to  the  Hebrides,"  "has  still  great  dig- 
nity and  opulence,  and  by  intermarriages  is  con- 
nected with  many  other  noble  families."  His 
father  gave  Boswell  a  letter  of  introduction  to 
Gronovius,  a  scholar  with  whom  he  had  been  inti- 
mate many  years  before,  while  Sir  David  com- 
mended him  to  the  care  of  the  Count  of  Nassau,  at 
Utrecht,  a  distinguished  publicist  and  man  of  letters. 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        31 

We  know  more  of  Boswell's  plans  with  respect 
to  Utrecht  than  of  his  attainments  there.  A  fort- 
night before  his  departure  from  England,  he  gave 
Sir  David  the  following  description  of  his  plans  :  — 

I  am  determined  to  study  the  civil  law  and  the  law  of 
nature  and  nations.  I  shall  also  have  Erskine's  "In- 
stitutes" with  me,  and  by  degrees  acquire  the  Scots 
law.  I  shall  follow  a  plan  which  you  once  suggested  to 
me,  of  making  a  copy  of  the  whole  book,  which  will  fix 
my  attention  to  the  subject,  and  help  to  imprint  it  on 
my  memory.  The  acquiring  French  is  a  matter  of 
great  moment,  and  I  am  determined  to  be  very  assidu- 
ous in  doing  so.  I  shall  look  about  here  for  a  good 
French  servant  of  undoubted  character,  and,  at  any 
rate,  shall  have  such  a  one  at  Utrecht.  I  shall  dine  at 
the  old  "Castle  of  Antwerp."  I  am  told  by  the  same 
gentleman  who  told  me  many  other  things,  that  the 
new  one  is  the  best;  but,  as  he  likewise  told  me  that 
they  generally  spoke  English,  and  as  I  have  now  no 
great  respect  for  his  accounts,  I  shall  be  with  your  old 
friend  or  his  successor. 

On  August  5,  1763,  therefore,  at  five  o'clock  in 
the  morning,  Boswell  left  London  en  route  for  Har- 
wich and  Holland.  He  was  accompanied  by 
Samuel  Johnson,  who  was  fain  to  show  his  affec- 
tion for  his  young  friend  by  accompanying  him  as 
far  as  Harwich  and  the  packet-boat.  As  readers 
of  the  "Life  of  Johnson"  will  recall,  they  made  a 
pleasant  jaunt  of  it,  and  broke  the  journey  at  Col- 


32  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Chester,  arriving  at  Harwich  next  day.  Boswell 
was  a  Httle  nervous  at  the  thought  of  the  new  life 
that  awaited  him,  and  downcast  at  leaving  the 
joys  of  London.  He  tells  us  that  he  "teized"  his 
companion  "with  fanciful  apprehensions  of  un- 
happiness";  and  it  was  on  this  occasion  that 
Johnson,  pointing  to  a  moth  that  had  burnt  its 
life  out  in  a  candle-flame,  remarked,  "That  crea- 
ture was  its  own  tormentor,  and  I  believe  its  name 
was  Boswell." 

Johnson  walked  down  to  the  beach  with  the 
boy,  and  saw  him  safe  on  the  packet-boat  to  Hel- 
voetsluys.  "As  the  vessel  put  out  to  sea,"  remarks 
Boswell,  "  I  kept  my  eyes  upon  him  for  a  consider- 
able time,  while  he  remained  rolling  his  majestic 
frame  in  the  usual  manner ;  and  at  last  I  perceived 
him  walk  back  into  the  town,  and  he  disappeared." 

Upon  his  arrival  in  Utrecht,  Boswell  put  up  at 
the  Cour  de  I'Empereur;  but  we  know  nothing 
more  of  his  early  days  there  than  that  he  found 
the  town  very  dull,  and  fell  into  a  fit  of  blues.  But 
before  the  year  was  out,  social  intercourse  had 
restored  his  natural  gaiety.  Before  December 
he  was  suflSciently  intimate  with  his  new  teacher, 
whom  he  calls  "mynheer  Trotz,"  to  enlist  his 
assistance  for  Dr.  Johnson  in  the  study  of  the 
Frisian  language.  Moreover,  he  recorded  in  his 
Commonplace    Book    an    anecdote    narrated    by 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        33 

Trotz,  which  seems  to  show  that  the  old  gentleman 
was  not  without  some  sense  of  humour. 

When  Mr.  Trotz,  Professor  of  Civil  Law  at  Utrecht, 
was  at  Copenhagen,  he  had  a  mind  to  hear  the  Danish 
pulpit  oratory,  and  went  into  one  of  their  churches. 
At  that  time  the  barbarous  custom  of  making  spoil  of 
shipwrecked  goods  still  prevailed  in  Denmark.  The 
minister  prayed  with  great  fervency:  "0  Lord,  if  it 
please  Thee  to  chastise  the  wicked  for  their  sins,  and  to 
send  forth  Thy  stormy  winds  to  destroy  their  ships, 
we  beg  Thou  mayest  throw  them  upon  our  coasts  rather 
[than]  upon  any  other,  that  Thy  chosen  people  may 
receive  benefit  therefrom,  and  with  thankful  hearts  may 
glorify  Thy  holy  name." 

There  is  not  sufficient  evidence  here  to  prove 
that  our  young  friend  had  begun  to  Boswellise 
Professor  Trotz  —  there  is  but  a  single  straw  to 
show  the  direction  of  the  wind.  But  we  know  that 
Boswell's  instincts  set  consistently  in  that  quarter ; 
and  I,  for  one,  shall  not  easily  be  convinced  that 
this  was  an  exception  to  the  rule. 

There  were  other  distinguished  persons  with 
whom  he  established  an  intimacy.  He  was  re- 
ceived, apparently  with  perfect  freedom,  into  the 
family  of  one  of  the  governors  of  the  province. 
Baron  de  Zuylen,  a  nobleman  of  great  wealth  and 
distinguished  lineage.  Out  of  this  association 
sprang  one  of  the  most  amusing  of  the  numerous 
love-stories  which  diversify  the  biography  of  Bos- 


34  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

well,  and  which  will  be  narrated  in  its  proper 
place.  Meanwhile,  it  is  only  necessary  to  say  here 
that  love  was  one  of  the  means  by  which  he  con- 
trived to  get  the  better  of  that  homesickness  which 
had  afflicted  him  upon  his  arrival  in  Utrecht. 

He  also  made  the  acquaintance,  naturally,  of 
the  Reverend  William  Brown,  Minister  of  the 
Scottish  Church  at  Utrecht ;  but  the  person  whose 
conversation  delighted  him  most  was  a  young 
clergyman  named  Charles  Giffardier,  with  whom 
he  could  amuse  himself  when  in  lighter  mood. 
This  clerical  gentleman  was  destined,  many  years 
later,  to  achieve  a  modest  reputation  by  his  ap- 
pearance in  Fanny  Burney's  "Diary,"  under  the 
pseudonym  of  "Mr.  Turbulent."  Save  for  Miss 
Burney's  notice  of  him  and  his  riotous  humour, 
he  has  no  claim  to  remembrance.  He  was  Queen 
Charlotte's  French  reader  when  Miss  Burney  knew 
him  at  court ;  but  the  glimpse  we  are  now  to  have 
of  him  shows  him  in  close  relations  with  the  youth- 
ful Boswell  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  century  before,  at 
a  time  when  his  spirits  were  probably  no  less  tur- 
bulent than  in  middle  age.  He  told  Boswell  anec- 
dotes of  French  army  life  for  him  to  record  in  his 
Commonplace  Book,  and,  in  general,  fascinated 
him  by  his  French  assurance  and  gaiety.  Boswell's 
letter  to  him,  which  is  here  printed,  gives  us 
the   only   reliable   information  which   has   so  far 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        35 

been   discovered  regarding  Boswell's  social  life  in 
Utrecht. 

Utrecht,  16  December,  1763. 

Monsieur,  — 

By  the  address  of  this  letter,  you  will  see  that  I 
intended  to  write  in  Prench.  By  the  address  I  mean 
the  exordium.  Monsieur.  I  did  indeed  fully  intend  to 
have  written  to  you  in  that  language,  of  which  you 
know  so  much,  and  I  so  little.  But  I  recollected  that 
my  French  letters  are  as  yet  but  mere  themes,  and  that 
I  should  not  be  doing  you  a  great  kindness  to  give  you 
the  trouble  to  correct  them. 

Although  I  cannot  correct  the  language  of  your 
letter,  yet  I  think  I  may  take  upon  me  to  correct  the 
sentiment  of  it.  Your  French  morality,  Giffardierre, 
is  "lighter  than  vanity."  A  generous  Briton  gives  it 
to  the  wind,  with  a  smile  of  disdain.  To  be  serious, 
your  amorous  sentences  are  vivacious.  But  are  they 
proper  from  a  son  of  the  Church.'^  Indeed,  Doctor, 
I  am  affraid  not.  Beleive  me,  Sir,  such  sallies  are 
dangerous.  They  glance  upon  the  mind,  and  dazzle 
the  eye  of  discernment.  Morality  is  permanent,  altho' 
our  sight  be  wavering ;  happy  are  they  who  can  keep 
it  constantly  in  view.  I  have  experienced  a  good  deal 
of  variety,  and  I  am  firmly  convinced  that  the  true 
happiness  of  a  man  is  propriety  of  conduct  and  the 
hope  of  divine  favour.  Excuse  me,  Giffardier,  I  am 
domineering  over  you,  I  allow.  But  don't  you  deserve 
it  ?  When  you  left  this,  was  you  not  resolved  to  acquire 
"intellectual  dignity"  ?  I  desire  that  you  may  remem- 
ber your  resolution.  You  have  now  a  fair  opportunity 
to  become  a  real  philosopher.     If  you  improve  your 


36  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

solitude  as  you  ought  to  do,  the  rest  of  your  life  may  be 
past  in  chearfuU  tranquillity.  Take  this  as  it  is  meant 
and  you  will  thank  me. 

I  now  find  Utrecht  to  be  the  same  agreable  place 
which  my  freind  Dalrymple  found  it  fifteen  years  ago. 
We  have  brilliant  assemblys  twice  a  week  and  private 
parties  allmost  every  evening.  La  Comtesse  de  Nassau 
Beverwerd  has  taken  me  under  her  protection.  She  is 
the  finest  woman  upon  earth.  She  has  shown  me  the 
[greajtest  civility,  and  has  introduced  me  [upon]  the  very 
best  footing  [into  the  gay]  world  of  this  city.  I  be[gin 
to]  make  acquaintance  wi[th]  the  people  of  fashion,  and 
hope  to  be  agreable  to  them.  There  are  so  many 
beautifull  and  amiable  ladies  in  our  circle  that  a  quire 
of  paper  could  not  contain  their  praises,  tho'  written  by 
a  man  of  a  much  cooler  fancy  and  a  much  smaller  hand- 
writing than  myself. 

I  have  stood  upon  my  guard  and  have  repelled  dissi- 
pation. I  am  firm  to  my  plan  and  I  divide  my  time 
between  study  and  amusement.  "Happy  man!"  you 
will  say.  Our  vacation  begins  this  day.  I  shall  go 
to  the  Hague  next  week,  and  expect  to  pass  there  some 
weeks  of  felicity.  Do  not  allow  yourself  to  weary  in 
your  present  retreat.  Acquire  fortitude,  and  all  will 
at  least  be  supportable  in  this  changefull  world. 

I  am.  Sir, 

Your  sincere  well-wisher  and  humble  servant, 

James  Boswell. 

Last  post  I  had  a  long  letter  from  Mr.  Johnson. 

There  is  not  much  here  about  work;  but  then, 
one  does  not  write  letters  about  work.     To-morrow 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        37 

vacation  begins,  and  our  mind  is  jBlled  with  "gay 
ideas"  once  more ;  there  will  be  "weeks  of  felicity." 
The  reader  will  not  have  forgotten  that,  according 
to  our  hero's  earliest  plans,  there  was  to  be  much 
junketing  about  the  Seven  Provinces.  He  had 
discussed  his  plans  with  Johnson,  and  had  even 
gone  so  far  as  to  suggest  that  Johnson  should  come 
over  to  the  Low  Countries  in  the  following  summer, 
and  tour  them  with  him.  This  Christmas  holiday, 
however,  shall  be  spent  at  The  Hague,  where,  as 
has  been  said,  he  could  claim  relationship  with  cer- 
tain aristocratic  families.  There  was  apparently 
no  diflBculty  in  obtaining  the  paternal  assent  to 
this  plan,  and  the  visit  was  made.  He  passed  a 
fortnight  in  the  "gay  world"  at  The  Hague,  where 
he  was  graciously  received  by  his  relatives  and  by 
"many  other  people  of  distinction."  Of  his  rela- 
tives we  know  nothing  more;  but  he  formed  an 
association  with  a  group  of  young  Scottish  advo- 
cates, among  whom  was  William  Nairne,  who,  a 
decade  later,  accompanied  Boswell  and  Johnson  as 
far  as  St.  Andrews  on  the  Hebridean  tour.  It  was 
he  whom  Johnson  then  described  as  "a  gentleman 
who  could  stay  with  us  only  long  enough  to  make 
us  know  how  much  we  lost  by  his  leaving  us."  An- 
other was  Andrew  Stuart,  who  later  made  a  name 
for  himself  in  the  famous  Douglas  case,  and  fought 
a  duel  with  Lord  Thurlow.  The  three  young  fellows 


38  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

coached  from  The  Hague  to  Rotterdam.  Stuart 
seized  the  reins  from  the  Dutch  blockliead  who 
held  them,  and  showed  him  how  a  party  of  young 
Britons  expected  to  travel.  Bos  well  said  he  drove 
so  hard  that  the  very  moles  came  above  ground  to 
look  at  him. 

During  this  vacation  he  also  visited  Leyden, 
where  A.  Gronovius  invited  him  to  *'pass  a  Satur- 
day," and  inspect  certain  notes  on  Greek  lyric 
poetry.  He  put  up  at  the  Golden  Ball,  and  ate  his 
supper  in  the  great  parlour,  or  public  room,  of  that 
inn.  We  get  a  glimpse  of  him  from  his  Common- 
place Book,  in  which  he  habitually  refers  to  himself 
in  the  third  person  —  an  indication  of  his  instinc- 
tive tendency  to  make  drama  of  the  simplest  events 
of  his  daily  life. 

As  he  was  eating  a  sober  bit  of  supper,  there  entered 
three  roaring  West  Indians,  followed  by  a  large  dog. 
They  made  a  deal  of  rude  noise.  The  waiter  thought 
it  incumbent  upon  him  to  make  an  apology  for  their 
roughness.  "Sir,"  said  he,  "they  are  very  good- 
natured  gentlemen."  "Yes,  yes,"  said  Boswell,  "I 
see  they  are  very  good-natured  gentlemen,  and  in  my 
opinion,  sir,  the  dog  seems  to  be  as  good-natured  as 
any  of  the  three." 

This  anecdote  is  certainly  not  worth  reprinting 
for  its  wit,  but  it  may  serve  as  a  specimen  of  Bos- 
well's  ability  to  lend  to  the  most  commonplace 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        39 

occurrence  a  vividness  and  actuality  that  were 
later  to  be  reckoned  among  his  most  conspicuous 
endowments.  In  Leyden,  too,  he  met  the  Hon- 
ourable Charles  Gordon,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Aber- 
deen, whom  he  invited  to  visit  him  in  Utrecht. 
"Mr.  Boswell,"  said  Gordon,  "I  would  willingly 
come  and  see  you  for  a  day  at  Utrecht,  but  I  am 
afraid  I  should  tire  you."  "Sir,"  replied  Boswell, 
*'I  defy  you  to  tire  me  for  one  day." 

There  is  something  significant  in  the  absence 
from  the  Commonplace  Book  of  the  usual  topics 
discussed  by  travellers,  and  the  presence,  instead, 
of  such  anecdotes  as  those  just  set  down.  Neither 
the  canals  in  Holland  nor  the  Alps  in  Switzerland 
seem  to  have  impressed  him.  His  indifference  to 
architecture  was  complete,  and  the  only  pictures 
that  I  remember  his  having  mentioned  are  the 
paintings  found  at  Herculaneum,  in  which  he  felt 
an  antiquarian  rather  than  an  artistic  interest. 
The  outward  aspect  of  cities  meant  little  to  him. 
He  called  Berlin  "a  fine  city,"  and  said,  at  Rome, 
that  he  viewed  the  ancient  remains  with  "venerable 
enthusiasm";  but  Utrecht,  Florence,  Venice,  Na- 
ples elicited  no  praise  from  his  ordinarily  enthu- 
siastic pen.  Johnson's  advice  may  account  for  a 
measure  of  this  indifference,  for  he  had  counselled 
Boswell  to  go  where  there  were  courts  and  learned 
men;  he  was  "of  Lord  Essex's  opinion,  rather  to 


40  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

go  an  hundred  miles  to  speak  with  one  wise  man, 
than  five  miles  to  see  a  fair  town."  It  was  Johnson 
who  found  water  "the  same  everywhere,"  and 
thought  the  Giants'  Causeway  "worth  seeing,  but 
not  worth  going  to  see." 

Still,  Boswell's  indifference  to  scenery  and  to 
pictorial  art  is  more  than  "a  plume  from  the  wing 
of  Johnson"  (as  Wilkes  would  have  called  it), 
and  these  anecdotes  contain  the  explanation. 
Conversation,  it  is  to  be  remembered,  was  ever 
for  him  the  purest  joy  in  life;  in  travelling,  it  is 
the  means  of  cultivating  what  the  century  loved 
to  call  "universality."  The  object  of  travel  is  to 
become  a  citizen  of  the  world,  rather  than  an 
arbiter  elegantiarum.  In  the  course  of  his  travels, 
Boswell  will  associate  with  his  own  countrymen  or 
not,  according  as  he  may  profit  by  intercourse  with 
them;  for  he  has  come  abroad  as  a  philosopher, 
not  as  a  gypsy.  Therefore,  in  learning  to  appre- 
ciate the  civilisation  of  the  Dutch  or  the  Italians, 
he  does  not  deem  it  necessary  to  repudiate  his  own 
country  and  strive  to  be  mistaken  for  a  native  in 
the  land  where  he  happens  to  be.  Buildings  and 
canals  and  fortifications  may  be  left  to  blear-eyed 
antiquarians  with  their  tiresome  pedantry.  And 
so  he  recorded  anecdotes  and  hon  mots,  not  all  of 
them  clever,  it  is  true,  but,  as  a  whole,  reflecting 
a  life  crowded  with  human  faces  and  memories,  a 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        41 

life  in  which  he  had  been  not  a  mere  spectator  but 
a  participant.  For  a  biographer  what  training 
could  have  been  better  ?  It  was  to  be  his  function 
to  exhibit  life  in  panoramic  fulness  and  detail,  to 
catch  the  conversation  of  the  salon  and  the  club, 
and  yet  to  avoid  the  dulness  of  realism  by  plucking 
merely  the  flower  of  that  life.  These  anecdotes 
are,  as  it  were,  his  early  studies,  his  first  attempts, 
his  sketch-book,  sein  Hand  zu  weisen. 

Of  his  pride  in  his  store  of  this  kind  he  leaves  us 
in  no  doubt.  He  tells  how,  years  later,  as  he  was 
one  day  writing  in  his  "journal  of  conversations,'* 
General  Paoli  came  upon  him,  and,  noting  his 
occupation,  requested  him  to  read  something  from 
the  book.  When  the  young  man  was  long  in 
selecting  a  specimen,  Paoli  taunted  him :  "  Reason 
says  I  am  a  deer  lost  in  a  wood.  It  is  difficult  to 
find  me.*'  "I  had,"  adds  Boswell,  "nothing  to 
answer  at  the  time,  but  afterwards  —  I  forget  how 
long  —  I  said,  *  The  wood  is  crowded  with  deer. 
There  are  so  many  good  things,  one  is  at  a  loss 
which  to  choose.'"  To  him  it  was  a  well-spring  of 
wisdom,  free  from  the  taint  of  the  study ;  wisdom 
exhibiting  herself  as  a  glorified  savoir-faire  —  wis- 
dom, that  is,  in  its  actual  application  to  life  by  men 
of  the  keenest  minds.  Conversation,  he  asserted, 
which  could  be  remembered  and  recorded,  was 
like  the  rich  freight  which  one  brings  home  from  a 


42  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

journey  that  has  been  profitable  as  well  as  pleasant. 

The  Christmas  vacation  was  followed  by  another 
term,  and  that,  in  due  course,  by  the  summer  holi- 
days ;  and  it  was  clear  to  Boswell  that  it  was  time 
for  him  to  be  gone  from  among  the  Dutch.  The 
time  had  come  to  "proceed"  to  the  glorious  south. 
But  how  was  it  to  be  managed  ? 

At  this  moment  luck  favoured  him  once  more. 
Late  in  June  there  returned  from  Scotland  to  the 
Continent  a  man  the  romance  of  whose  early  years 
had  been  equalled  by  the  exalted  station  which  he 
had  attained  in  his  age.  This  was  George  Keith, 
the  Earl  Marischal  of  Scotland,  the  intimate 
friend  of  Voltaire  and  Rousseau,  the  favourite  and 
trusted  adviser  of  Frederick  the  Great.  In  youth 
he  had  twice  been  out  campaigning  for  the  Stuarts, 
and  had  found  it  well,  after  the  failure  of  the 
campaign  of  1719,  to  live  abroad.  He  came  under 
the  protection  of  the  King  of  Prussia,  whose  per- 
sonal ambassador  he  was  at  the  courts  of  France 
and  of  Spain.  Upon  his  communication  of  valuable 
political  intelligence  to  William  Pitt,  he  was  par- 
doned by  George  II,  as  that  monarch  was  nearing 
the  end  of  his  life.  The  Earl  returned  to  Scotland 
for  a  time.  He  was  now  nearly  seventy  years  old, 
and  had  probably  made  up  his  mind  to  end  his 
days  in  his  native  land.  During  this  residence  he 
met  Lord  Auchinleck,  with  whom  he  became  inti- 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        43 

mate.  He  had  served,  in  youth,  under  the  Earl  of 
Mar,  a  relative  of  Mrs.  Boswell.  But  his  peaceful 
retirement  was  interrupted  in  the  spring  of  1764, 
when  he  was  urgently  invited  by  his  Prussian  mas- 
ter to  return  to  Potsdam.   This  he  agreed  to  do. 

Now,  just  at  this  time  Lord  Auchinleck  was  in 
doubt  —  as  usual  —  regarding  the  best  course  to 
pursue  with  his  son  James.  The  boy  was  eager  to 
travel  and  see  life.  Beyond  a  doubt,  the  matter 
was  laid  before  the  Earl  Marischal,  and  a  decision 
reached  that  young  Boswell  was  to  visit  the  Ger- 
man courts,  and  to  travel  in  the  company  of  the 
Earl  as  far  as  Berlin.  To  Lord  Auchinleck  it 
must  have  seemed  a  safe  and  happy  solution  of 
a  pressing  problem. 

Lord  Keith  left  England  on  the  seventh  of  June, 
and  was  in  company  with  a  young  Turkish  lady, 
EmetuUa  by  name,  who  appears  in  Boswell's  notes 
as  "Mademoiselle  Amete,  the  Turk."  She  was  the 
Earl's  adopted  daughter,  a  lady  whom  his  brother. 
General  Keith,  is  said  to  have  rescued  at  the  siege 
of  Oczakow. 

At  some  spot  or  other,  then,  in  the  Low  Coun- 
tries or  in  Western  Germany,  Boswell  joined  the 
Earl  and  his  fair  charge,  and  a  remarkable  trio 
they  must  have  been :  the  venerable  diplomat, 
who  was  received  with  all  possible  attention  where- 
ever  the  party  stopped ;  the  silent  Turkish  lady. 


44  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

and  the  eager  young  traveller,  who  was  at  last  on 
the  wing.  That  Bos  well  undertook  to  collect 
materials  for  an  intimate  sketch  of  the  Earl 
Marischal  is  certain.  He  promised  Rousseau  that, 
on  his  return  from  Corsica,  he  would  show  him  a 
*' portrait,"  that  is,  a  character-sketch,  with  anec- 
dotes and  reminiscences  of  the  Earl  Marischal, 
who  was  now  old  and  likely  soon  to  pass  away. 
One  anecdote  recorded  in  the  Commonplace  Book 
takes  us  far  back,  to  the  days  of  the  Old  Pretender 
and  the  uprising  of  1715,  when  Lord  Keith  was  an 
officer  of  cavalry. 

In  the  year  1715,  Lord  Marischal  observed  a  High- 
lander crying,  and  looking  at  the  poor  fellow,  he  ob- 
served he  had  no  shoes.  He  sent  one  to  him,  who 
spoke  Erse,  and  bid  him  not  to  be  cast  down,  for  he 
should  have  shoes.  "Sir,"  said  the  Highlander,  "I 
want  no  shoes ;  I  am  crying  to  see  a  Macdonald  retire 
from  his  enemy." 

As  for  the  Earl,  he  was  amazed  at  his  new  friend, 
who  confided  to  him  the  most  remarkable  notions. 
Some  months  later  he  wrote  to  Rousseau,  **  Boswell 
is  a  very  fine  fellow,  but  full  of  hypochondriac  and 
visionary  ideas.  He  has  often  seen  spirits.  I  do 
hope  that  he  will  not  fall  into  the  hands  of  people 
who  will  turn  his  head  completely." 

The  little  party  reached  Berlin  on  July  7,  and 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        45 

two  days  later  Boswell  wrote  to  Mademoiselle  de 
Zuylen  in  Utrecht :  — 

I  have  had  a  most  agreeable  journey.  My  Lord 
Marischal  was  most  entertaining  company,  and  the 
Turkish  lady  talked  extremely  well  when  indolence 
did  not  keep  her  in  silence.  We  were  very  happy  at 
Brunswic.  I  have  been  only  two  days  at  Berlin.  But 
I  see  that  much  happiness  awaits  me  in  this  beautifuU 
capital.  The  German  formality  and  state  pleases  me 
much,  for  I  am  the  true  old  Scots  Baron. 

In  this  short  quotation  there  is  much  that  is  worthy 
of  notice.  The  young  Turkish  lady,  for  example, 
seems  to  be  inadequately  described.  She  had  no 
conversation.  How,  therefore,  was  a  Boswell  to 
record  her  adequately.^  She  had,  apparently,  an 
Oriental  indolence,  but  not  the  vivacity  of  Made- 
moiselle de  Zuylen,  to  whom  he  was  writing. 

It  would  be  interesting  to  know  if  Boswell  saw, 
or  tried  to  see,  King  Frederick.  German  princes 
he  certainly  did  meet  and  converse  with,  as  he  was 
careful  later  to  narrate.  But  he  was  soon  to  weary 
of  German  etiquette.  As  the  young  friend  of  the 
Earl  Marischal,  all  doors  were  open  to  him,  and  he 
saw  what  there  was  to  see.  He  went  to  Charlot- 
tenberg  on  the  occasion  of  the  betrothal  of  the 
Princess  of  Brunswick  to  the  Prince  of  Prussia, 
but  found  nothing  worthy  of  record  except  a  mot 
of  his  own.      He  was  presented  to  the  British 


46  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

envoy,  Andrew  Mitchell,  in  whose  conversation, 
he  avers,  he  found  *' uncommon  pleasure."  The 
envoy  had,  apparently,  listened  with  patience  to 
the  young  fellow,  and  then  given  him  some  good 
advice. 

To  Mitchell  Boswell  wrote  a  couple  of  letters 
which  have  been  reprinted  as  often  as  any  that  he 
ever  wrote.  They  have  been  laid  under  contribu- 
tion by  those  who  enjoy  scolding  at  Boswell,  for 
they  are,  indeed,  very  impudent  letters.  It  had 
occurred  to  Boswell  that  he  might  "use"  the 
British  envoy.  Might  it  not  be  possible  to  prevail 
on  him  to  write  to  Lord  Auchinleck  and  recom- 
mend that  James  be  permitted  to  make  the  Italian 
tour.^  It  was  a  peculiarly  Boswellian  scheme,  of 
the  sort  which  he  had  before  this  carried  success- 
fully into  execution.  Had  not  Sir  David  Dal- 
rymple  interceded  with  his  father  on  the  boy's 
behalf.^  And  so  he  confided  to  Mitchell  that  the 
"words  of  the  Apostle  Paul,  'I  must  see  Rome,* 
had  been  strongly  borne  in''''  upon  his  mind!  He 
explained  that  he  had  passed  a  year  in  Utrecht, 
where  he  had  recovered  his  "inclination  for  study 
and  rational  thinking."  Now  he  is  ready  for  his 
travels ;  but  his  father's  views  are  unfortunately 
"entirely  different":  he  thinks  that  James  had 
better  go  back  to  Utrecht  for  another  winter. 
Clearly  it  is  not  that  the  father  merely  objects  to 


IN  HOLLAND  AND  GERMANY        47 

the  boy's  absence  from  Scotland  another  year. 
Cannot  Lord  Auchinleck  be  made  to  reaHse  that 
his  son  intends  to  travel  through  Italy,  not  as  a 
"Mi  Lord  Anglois,'*  but  as  a  scholar  and  a  "man 
of  elegant  curiosity"?  Surely,  if  Mr.  Mitchell 
would  be  so  kind  as  to  explain  to  Lord  Auchinleck, 
all  would  be  well.  "I  would  beg.  Sir,"  he  says, 
"that  you  may  write  to  my  father  your  opinion  as 
to  this  matter,  and  put  it  in  the  light  which  you 
may  think  it  deserves."  The  father  had  gone  so 
far  as  to  consent  to  a  visit  to  Paris ;  surely,  surely 
it  is  not  beyond  hope  that  he  will  consent  to  Italy 
also. 

Can  the  reader  believe  that  Mr.  Mitchell  was  so 
hard-hearted  as  to  decline  this  ingenuous  request  ? 
It  is  the  business  of  envoys  to  give  cautious  advice, 
and  to  avoid  becoming  a  catspaw.  Mitchell  acted 
like  a  true  envoy,  and  wrote  to  Boswell  that  he 
would  do  well  to  obey  his  father.  Obviously. 
But  the  advice  came  too  late.  Lord  Auchinleck 
had  already  yielded,  and  Boswell  could  not  resist 
the  temptation  to  triumph  over  the  envoy  :  — 

You  tell  me  gravely  to  follow  the  plan  which  my 
father  prescribes,  whatever  it  may  be,  as  in  doing  so, 
I  shall  certainly  act  most  wisely.  I  forgive  you  this; 
for  I  say  just  the  same  to  young  people  whom  I  advise. 
...  I  have,  however,  the  happiness  to  inform  you  that 
my  father  has  consented  that  I  shall  go  to  Italy. 


48  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

He  wrote  this  letter  after  he  had  left  Germany. 
Five  months  had  passed,  and  it  was  again  the 
Christmas  season.  Our  young  traveller  had  "pro- 
ceeded" as  far  as  Geneva,  and  had,  indeed,  already 
met  Rousseau.  Life  was  opening  up  to  him.  Life  is 
what  you  choose  to  make  it.  The  world  is  one's 
oyster.  As  for  the  game  which  he  had  been  play- 
ing with  his  father,  it  was  now  over,  and  youth  had 
won.  Those  who  have  not  forgotten  their  own 
youth  may  be  able  to  pardon  the  boy  for  obviously, 
and  a  little  impudently,  relishing  his  triumph. 


CHAPTER  III 
WITH  THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS 

The  winter  of  1764  and  1765  has  hitherto  been 
almost  a  blank  page  in  the  biography  of  Boswell ; 
but  with  the  aid  of  his  letters  to  Rousseau,  which 
have  never  been  published  or  even  read  over  by 
scholars,  but  copies  of  which  have,  by  great  good 
fortune,  come  into  my  hands,  we  are  enabled  to  tell 
in  outline  the  story  of  his  life  during  this  period, 
and  to  see  the  influence  of  events  in  fixing  the  lit- 
erary ambitions  of  him  who  was  to  be  the  Prince  of 
Biographers. 

Boswell  departed  from  Germany,  then,  dis- 
gusted with  courts,  and  repining  at  the  dearth  of 
great  men  in  that  country,  went  to  Switzer- 
land. He  went  first  to  the  Val  de  Travers,  where 
he  proposed  to  meet  Rousseau.  He  had  decided 
to  approach  him  with  no  other  recommendation 
than  his  own  social  genius.  Now,  inasmuch  as  this 
was  not,  in  general,  Boswell's  method  of  approach 
to  a  great  man,  we  are  justified,  I  think,  in  assum- 
ing that  he  had  failed  to  find  anyone  who  would 
give  him  the  necessary  letter  of  introduction.  Lord 
Keith  might  have  done  it,  but  he  knew  Rousseau 
all  too  well  to  care  to  do  it.     It  is  clear  that  he 


50  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

explained  to  Boswell  that  Rousseau  was  living  in 
retreat  from  the  world  and  denying  himself  to  all 
visitors.  Boswell  had  better  give  up  the  attempt 
to  meet  him.  But  the  young  Scot  was  not  easily 
discouraged.  He  had  never  yet  failed  to  meet 
anyone  whom  he  had  made  up  his  mind  to  meet. 
There  must  be  ways  of  prevailing  even  upon  a 
Rousseau.  There  are  a  thousand  kinds  of  appeal 
that  may  be  made  to  a  philosopher :  one  might,  for 
example,  rest  one's  case  on  one's  dire  need  of  spir- 
itual counsel.  It  is  only  necessary  to  show  a  phil- 
osopher that  one  is  a  worthy  disciple,  that  one  has 
lived  a  life  not  unlike  that  of  the  master.  And  so 
the  artful  creature  composed  the  following  letter, 
which  I  render  into  English,  since  it  is  somewhat 
difficult  to  see  the  implications  of  Boswell's  tor- 
tured French  phrases. 

Val  db  Traver,  3  December  1764. 
Monsieur,  — 

I  am  a  gentleman  of  an  old  Scotch  family  [un  ancien 
gentilhomme  ecossois].  You  know  my  rank.  I  am 
twenty-four  years  old.  You  know  my  age.  It  is  six- 
teen months  since  I  left  Great  Britain,  completely  in- 
sular, knowing  hardly  a  word  of  French.  I  have  been 
in  Holland  and  in  Germany,  but  not  yet  in  France.  You 
will  therefore  excuse  my  language.  I  am  on  my  travels, 
and  have  a  genuine  desire  to  perfect  myself.  I  have 
come  here  in  the  hope  of  seeing  you. 

I  have  heard.  Sir,  that  it  is  difficult  to  meet  you  [que 
vous  etes  fort  difficile]  and  that  you  have  refused  the 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS        51 

visits  of  several  persons  of  the  highest  distinction.  For 
that,  Sir,  I  respect  you  all  the  more.  If  you  were  to 
receive  everyone  who  came  to  you  just  to  be  able  to  say 
boastingly,  "I  have  seen  him,"  your  house  would  no 
longer  be  the  retreat  of  exquisite  Genius  nor  of  elevated 
Piety ;  and  I  should  not  be  enthusiastically  eager  to  be 
received  there. 

I  present  myself.  Sir,  as  a  man  of  unique  merit,  as  a 
man  with  a  sensitive  heart,  a  spirit  lively  yet  melan- 
choly. Ah !  if  all  I  have  suffered  gives  me  no  special 
merit  in  the  eyes  of  M.  Rousseau,  why  was  I  ever  so 
created,  and  why  did  he  ever  write  as  he  has  done 
[a-t-il  tellement  ecrit]? 

Do  you  ask  me  for  letters  of  recommendation?  Is 
there  need  of  any  with  a  man  like  you  ?  An  introduc- 
tion is  necessary  in  the  world  of  affairs,  in  order  to  pro- 
tect those  who  have  no  insight  for  impostors.  But,  Sir, 
can  you,  who  have  studied  human  nature,  be  deceived 
in  a  man's  character  ?  My  idea  of  you  is  this :  aside 
from  the  unknowable  essence  of  the  human  soul,  you 
have  a  perfect  knowledge  of  all  the  principles  of  body 
and  mind ;  their  actions,  their  sentiments,  in  short,  of 
whatever  they  can  accomplish  or  acquire  in  the  way  of 
influence  over  man.  In  spite  of  all  this,  Sir,  I  dare  to 
present  myself  before  you.  I  dare  to  submit  myself  to 
the  proof.  In  cities  and  in  courts  where  there  is  a 
numerous  society,  it  is  possible  to  disguise  one's  self; 
it  is  possible  even  to  dazzle  the  eyes  of  the  greatest  phil- 
osophers. But  I  put  myself  to  the  severest  proof.  It 
is  in  the  silence  and  the  solitude  of  your  hallowed  retreat 
that  you  shall  judge  of  me ;  think  you  that  in  such  cir- 
cumstances I  should  be  capable  of  dissimulation  ? 


52  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Your  writings,  Sir,  have  softened  my  heart,  raised  my 
spirits,  and  kindled  my  imagination.  Believe  me,  you 
will  be  glad  to  see  me.  You  know  Scotch  pride.  Sir, 
I  come  to  you  to  make  myself  worthy  to  belong  to  a 
nation  that  has  produced  a  Fletcher  of  Saltoun,  and  an 
Earl  Marischal.  Pardon  me.  Sir,  but  I  am  moved !  I 
can  no  longer  refrain  myself,  0  beloved  St.  Preux! 
Inspired  Mentor !  Eloquent  and  amiable  Rousseau ! 
I  have  a  presentiment  that  a  noble  friendship  is  to  be 
born  this  day. 

I  learn  with  great  regret.  Sir,  that  you  are  frequently 
indisposed.  You  may  be  so  at  present ;  but  I  implore 
you  not  to  let  that  prevent  your  receiving  me.  You  will 
find  in  me  a  simplicity  which  will  in  no  wise  disturb  you 
and  a  cordiality  which  may  assist  you  in  forgetting  your 
pains. 

I  have  much  to  say  to  you.  Although  but  a  young 
man,  I  have  had  a  variety  of  experiences,  with  which 
you  will  be  impressed.  I  am  in  serious  and  delicate 
circumstances,  and  am  most  ardently  desirous  of  having 
the  counsels  of  the  author  of  "  La  Nouvelle  Heloise.'*  If 
you  are  the  benevolent  man  that  I  think  you,  you  will 
not  hesitate  to  bestow  them  upon  me.  Open  your  door, 
then.  Sir,  to  a  man  who  dares  to  say  that  he  deserves  to 
enter  there.  Trust  a  unique  foreigner.  You  will  never 
repent  it.  But,  I  beg  of  you,  be  alone.  In  spite  of  my 
enthusiasm,  after  having  written  you  in  this  manner,  I 
am  not  sure  that  I  would  not  rather  forego  seeing  you 
than  meet  you  for  the  first  time  in  company.  I  await 
your  reply  with  impatience. 

BoSWELL. 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS        53 

Who  could  refuse  such  a  request  ?  Certainly  not 
Jean  Jacques  Rousseau.  Apparently  the  interview 
came  off  exactly  as  Boswell  desired  it.  From 
remarks  in  later  letters  and  hints  dropped  here 
and  there,  it  is  possible  to  reconstruct  the  general 
scheme  of  their  association.  Since  romantic  mel- 
ancholy had  become,  thanks  to  Rousseau,  the 
fashionable  pose,  Boswell  told  of  the  tempera- 
mental gloom  that  frequently  descended  upon  him ; 
of  the  hypochondria  that  had  aj03icted  him  in 
Utrecht.  (It  is  noteworthy  that  with  Boswell,  as 
with  ourselves,  the  sharpest  fits  of  melancholia 
were  coincident  with  confinement  in  harness.)  He 
told  him  all  this,  and  elicited  from  Rousseau  the 
compliment  which  he  never  tired  of  quoting :  "II  y 
a  des  points  ou  nos  ames  sont  lies." 

He  told  him,  moreover,  of  his  affairs  of  the  heart, 
and  explained  that  he  was  in  doubt  with  regard  to 
his  latest  flame,  Mile.  Isabella  de  Zuylen  (whom  he 
called  "Zelide"),  as  being  the  final  choice  of  his 
heart.  He  sent  him  a  sketch  of  his  own  life,  — 
which  would  be  worth  its  weight  in  gold  to-day  if 
it  could  be  turned  up,  —  in  order  that  the  great 
man  might  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  his  new 
friend.  They  conversed  about  the  Earl  Marischal, 
and  Boswell  proposed  to  write  a  "Portrait"  (as  it 
was  called  in  the  salons)  or  character-sketch  of  him. 
(It  would  appear  that  Rousseau's  genius  recog- 


54  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

nized  the  youngster's  fitness  for  this  kind  of  com- 
position.) He  got  a  promise  from  him  of  a  letter 
to  his  philosophic  friend,  De  Leyre,  the  librarian 
of  the  Duke  of  Parma,  destined  to  achieve  a  cer- 
tain prominence  in  the  French  Revolution  —  a  man 
whose  acquaintance  Boswell  promptly  cultivated 
in  Italy. 

He  begged  Rousseau  to  correspond  with  him. 
He  demanded  his  advice  with  regard  to  the  em- 
ployment of  his  time  in  Italy.  Inasmuch  as  Rous- 
seau was  a  musician,  Boswell,  in  the  third  of  his 
letters,  discovered  in  himself  a  penchant  for  that 
art.  He  tells  Rousseau  that  he  likes  to  sing,  con- 
fesses that  he  plays  a  bit  on  the  flute,  but  that 
he  despises  it.  Here  was  a  sorry  blunder :  he  did 
not  know  that  Rousseau  himself  was  addicted  to 
playing  the  flute.  It  is  our  loss  that  he  did  not 
know  it,  for  he  would  never  have  failed  to  expa- 
tiate on  so  important  a  bond  between  them.  Some 
two  years  before,  he  had  tried  the  violin,  but  found 
it  a  diflScult  instrument  and  gave  it  up.  "Tell  me, 
would  it  not  be  well  for  me  to  apply  myself  seri- 
ously to  music  —  up  to  a  certain  point  ?  Tell  me 
which  instrument  I  should  take  up.  It  is  late,  I 
admit ;  but  should  I  not  have  the  pleasure  of  mak- 
ing continous  progress,  and  —  '*  But  it  is  no 
longer  fair  to  conceal  from  the  reader  the  ipsissima 
verba  of  the  French  original :  *'  Ne  serais- je  pas 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS         55 

capable  d'adoucir  ma  vieillesse  par  les  sons  de  ma 
lyre?"  The  vision  of  James  Boswell  in  the  role 
of  Ossian,  with  white  beard  streaming  to  the  winds, 
amid  the  romantic  glades  of  Auchinleck,  soothing 
his  stricken  age  with  a  lyre,  is  one  that  no  kindly 
imagination  will  reject. 

But  Rousseau  was  more  than  a  musician,  more 
than  a  philosopher  retired  from  the  world.  He 
was  a  teacher  of  conduct,  and  his  influence  had 
long  since  been  felt  as  a  force  in  the  daily  lives  of 
men.  Therefore  Boswell  submits  to  him  a  prac- 
tical question  of  morals.  He  cites,  with  a  vivid- 
ness of  narrative  that  was  later  to  become  the  most 
distinguished  of  his  literary  qualities,  an  affaire 
d'honneur  in  which  he  had  become  involved  the 
summer  before,  and  from  which  he  had  escaped 
with  more  skill  than  glory.  I  give  it  without  ab- 
breviation. 

Last  summer  in  Germany  I  found  myself  in  the  midst 
of  a  large  company,  a  company  very  disagreeable  to  me 
and  in  which  I  was  sorry  to  be  losing  my  time.  The  talk 
was  all  in  praise  of  the  French.  Thereupon  I  declaimed 
against  that  nation  in  the  rudest  terms.  An  officer 
rose,  came  to  my  side  and  said,  "Monsieur,  I  am  a 
Frenchman,  and  none  but  a  scoundrel  would  speak  as 
you  have  done  of  that  nation."  We  were  still  at  dinner. 
I  made  him  a  bow.  I  had  half  an  hour  for  reflection. 
After  dinner  I  led  the  captain  out  into  the  garden.  I 
said  to  him,  "Sir,  I  am  greatly  embarrassed.     I  have 


56  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

been  very  impolite.  I  am  sincerely  sorry.  But  you 
have  made  use  of  a  word  which  a  man  of  honour  cannot 
endure,  and  I  must  have  satisfaction.  If  it  be  possible 
to  avoid  a  quarrel,  I  should  be  delighted,  for  I  was  in  the 
wrong.  Will  you  be  so  good  as  to  beg  my  pardon  before 
the  company?  I  will  first  beg  yours.  If  you  cannot 
agree  to  my  proposal,  we  must  fight,  although  I  admit 
to  you  that  I  shall  do  so  with  repugnance."  I  addressed 
him  with  the  sang-froid  of  a  philosopher  determined  to 
do  his  duty.  The  officer  was  a  fine  fellow.  He  said  to 
me,  "Sir,  I  will  do  as  you  wish."  We  returned  to  the 
company,  and  made  our  apologies,  one  to  the  other. 
We  embraced.  The  affair  was  ended.  I  could  not, 
however,  rest  content  without  consulting  two  or  three 
Scotsmen.  I  said  to  them,  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  a  simple 
man.  I  am  not  in  touch  with  your  social  rules,  but  I 
believe  that  I  have  acted  like  a  man.  You  are  my  com- 
patriots. I  ask  your  advice."  They  assured  me  that 
the  affair  had  been  honourably  adjusted  between  us. 
They  advised  me  to  take  this  experience  as  a  lesson  for 
the  future. 

But  still  the  young  man's  mind  is  not  at  rest. 
He  charges  himself  at  times  with  cowardice  — 
"Je  suis  d'un  temperament  craintif."  The  phil- 
osopher's opinion  is  sought.  "What  do  you  seri- 
ously think  of  duels?"  There  is  the  peculiarly 
Boswellian  touch,  the  conscious  art  of  the  inter- 
viewer disguising  itself  under  the  mask  of  naivete. 
In  dealing  with  Boswell,  nothing  is  easier  than  to 
let  our  attention  dwell  on  his  apparent  simplicity, 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS         57 

or  vanity,  or  even  folly,  to  the  point  of  entirely 
missing  the  thing  that  he  would  be  at.  What 
Rousseau  happens  to  think  about  BoswelPs  valor 
in  this  particular  incident  is,  of  course,  of  strictly 
secondary  importance  compared  with  the  primary 
intention  of  getting  the  great  man  to  express  him- 
self. One  may  sacrifice  a  great  deal  of  personal 
esteem  if  one  can  draw  forth  from  Rousseau  a  dis- 
sertation on  duelling.  And  so  Boswell  adds  to  the 
question  I  have  quoted  this  skillful  observation : 
"You  have  not  said  enough  of  the  matter  in  your 
*Heloise.'  There  are  people  who  think  that  the 
Gospel  teaches  us  to  be  too  supine  in  this  regard." 
Clearly  the  young  man  has  prepared  the  ground. 
If  Rousseau  replies  at  all,  he  can  hardly  avoid  the 
expression  of  his  views  on  duelling,  and  the  pages 
of  Boswell's  note-book  (and  of  his  future  "Remi- 
niscences of  Rousseau")  will  be  enriched  with  a 
unique  morsel. 

But  the  ending  of  this  third  letter  from  which  I 
have  been  quoting  is,  in  truth,  one  of  the  most 
delightful  and  characteristic  bits  that  our  bio- 
graphical adventurer  ever  penned.  His  busy  mind 
had  discovered  yet  another  avenue  of  approach  to 
the  retired  sage,  which  would  lead  (could  one  but 
get  started  upon  it)  straight  into  the  domestic 
privacies  of  life  which  Boswell  so  dearly  prized. 
Obviously  one  means  of  approach  to  a  man  is 


58  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

through  his  mistress.  Therefore  Boswell  ends  his 
letter  thus:  "You  will  not  take  offense  if  I  write 
occasionally  to  Mile.  Vasseur.  I  swear  that  I  have 
no  intention  of  carrying  off  your  duenna  [d'enlever 
voire  gouvernante].  I  sometimes  form  romantic 
plans ;  never  impossible  plans." 

What  reply  —  if  any  —  Jean  Jacques  made  to 
this  attractive  proposal,  I  cannot  tell.  Nor,  alas, 
have  any  letters  from  Boswell  to  Therese  Le  Vas- 
seur as  yet  rewarded  my  search.  But  certain  it 
*is  that  the  proposal  gave  no  offence.  For  when, 
some  thirteen  months  later,  Rousseau  crossed  the 
Channel  to  England,  he  went  in  company  with  his 
philosophic  friend,  David  Hume,  and  entrusted 
Therese  to  the  care  of  Boswell,  who  crossed  some 
weeks  later. 

But  there  was  another  philosophic  retreat  for  our 
young  enthusiast  to  penetrate  —  Ferney.  There 
dwelt  a  man  who  interested  him  no  less  than  Rous- 
seau —  Voltaire,  now  in  his  seventy-first  year,  but 
brilliant  still,  brilliant  as  a  meteor  which,  with 
fear  of  change,  perplexes  monarchs.  Just  how  the 
genial  young  tuft-hunter  got  into  the  presence,  we 
cannot  tell ;  but  it  is  probable  that  he  brought  a 
letter  of  introduction  from  the  Earl  Marischal, 
who  must  have  had  less  scruple  about  exposing 
Voltaire  to  the  Boswellian  bacillus  than  the  hypo- 
chondriac Rousseau.     Be  this  as  it  may,  Boswell 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS        59 

was  received,  and  by  his  own  statement  —  and  he 
was  not  given  to  inaccuracy  —  spent  an  hour  with 
the  aged  philosopher,  in  conversation  tete-a-tete. 

Can  you  imagine  the  scene  —  the  withered  but 
still  sinister  Son  of  the  Morning,  with  his  satirical 
smile  and  his  benevolent  eye,  confronting  the  busy, 
inquisitive,  entertaining  young  Scot?  "It  was," 
says  Boswell  in  describing  the  interview  to  Rous- 
seau, "a  most  serious  conversation.  He  talked  of 
his  natural  religion  in  a  striking  manner."  James, 
you  see,  had  introduced  the  subject  of  religion  — 
doubtless  by  means  of  citing  his  own  infidelities. 
Already  he  has  in  mind  an  account  of  his  discussion 
with  Voltaire  which  shall  correct  the  popular  im- 
pression of  him  as  devoid  of  the  religious  instinct. 

After  Voltaire  had  talked  for  a  time,  the  young 
man  said  to  himself,  —  and  on  the  principle 
that  James  Boswell  uttered  whatever  came  into 
his  head,  I  do  not  scruple  to  assert  that  he  cried 
aloud,  —  "Aut  Erasmus,  aut  diabolus!"  In  dis- 
cussing his  favourite  theme  of  the  nature  of  the 
soul,  Boswell  asked  Voltaire  a  question  which  well 
indicates  the  skill  with  which  he  ensnared  his 
destined  prey,  and  which,  indeed,  has  a  very 
modern  ring  to  it.  "I  asked  him  if  he  could  give 
me  any  notion  of  the  situation  of  our  ideas  which 
we  have  totally  forgotten  at  the  time,  yet  shall 
afterwards    recollect.     He    paused,    meditated    a 


60  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

little,  and  acknowledged  his  ignorance  in  the  spirit 
of  a  philosophical  poet,  by  repeating,  as  a  very 
happy  allusion,  a  passage  in  Thomson's  *  Seasons ' : 
*Aye,*  said  he,  '"Where  sleep  the  winds  when  it 
is  calm?"'" 

Of  course  he  got  Voltaire  to  express  an  opinion 
of  Rousseau ;  and  tells  us,  in  his  "Tour  to  Corsica," 
that  the  older  philosopher  consistently  spoke  of  the 
younger  with  a  "satirical  smile."  Yet  Boswell 
let  his  romantic  imagination  (as  he  would  have 
called  it)  play  with  the  notion  of  bringing  the  two 
men  together,  and  even  had  the  temerity  to  say 
to  Rousseau,  "In  spite  of  all  that  has  happened, 
you  would  have  loved  him  that  evening."  An 
astute  remark,  which  may  lead  to  much.  For,  if 
Rousseau  replies  to  the  letter,  he  may  assent  to 
this  pious  opinion  or  he  may  reject  it,  but  in  either 
case  there  begins  new  matter  for  a  biographer.  As 
we  know,  neither  James  Boswell  nor  anybody  else 
reconciled  the  two  philosophers;  but  James,  I 
regret  to  say,  did  something  to  increase  the  as- 
perity between  them.  In  the  spring  of  1776,  after 
Rousseau  had  quarrelled  with  his  English  friends, 
Boswell  designed  and  published  a  "ludicrous 
print,"  into  which  he  introduced  his  three  philo- 
sophical friends,  Rousseau,  Hume,  and  Voltaire. 
Rousseau  in  the  shaggy  attire  of  a  "wild  man"  (as 
conceived  in  the  reign  of  George  III)  occupies  the 


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^ 

<: 

THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS         61 

centre  of  the  picture,  while  Voltaire  smiles  cynically 
in  the  background,  as  one  of  the  bystanders  cries 
out,  "Wip  *im,  Voltaire  !'* 

On  New  Year's  Day,  1765,  James  Boswell  de- 
parted from  Geneva,  in  search  of  new  worlds  to 
conquer  and  other  great  men  to  record.  He  had 
come  into  conjunction  with  two  of  the  major 
planets  of  the  literary  heavens.  He  had  filled 
note-books  with  his  accounts  of  their  conversation 
—  notebooks  whose  loss  the  world  will  long  deplore. 
He  passed  from  Geneva  to  Turin  with  his  social 
and  anecdotical  soul  aflame,  rapt  away,  one  fancies, 
in  a  vision  of  all  the  glory  that  might  be  his. 

On  the  tenth  of  January,  he  learned  that  John 
Wilkes,  in  political  exile  from  his  native  land,  was, 
for  the  moment,  in  Turin.  At  once  he  prepared 
himself  for  the  attack.  O  reader,  do  you  per- 
chance know  the  ballet  of  "Tamar"?  If  you  do, 
you  will  recall  the  close  of  that  vivid  drama. 
Tamar,  having  finished  off  one  victim,  beholds 
from  her  window,  as  she  sinks  back  into  momentary 
ease,  the  approach  of  another  wayfarer.  She  lifts 
herself  from  cushioned  luxury,  and  beckons  to  him 
afar.  And  so  the  piece  ends  as  it  had  begun.  Or 
are  you,  perchance,  a  reader  of  M.  Benoit's  sultry 
romance,  "  L' Atlantide "  ?  If  so,  you  will  recall 
the  cruel  loveliness  of  the  princess,  whose  malign 
ambition  is  to  surround  herself  with  the  glistening 


62  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

images  of  her  lovers,  preserved  for  ever,  actual  yet 
golden.  Now  such  a  passion  as  that  of  Tamar  or 
the  Atlantide  possessed  the  innocent  soul  of  James 
Boswell,  biographer.  It  is  a  paltry  business  to 
think  of  him  as  a  parasite  who  attacked  but  a  single 
victim.  Nay,  rather,  his  was  the  golden  hand  of 
the  realist  who  preserves  human  life  in  its  actuality, 
yet  ever  at  its  best  and  fullest.  And  if  it  be  that 
there  mingled  with  his  vision  of  an  Atlantidean 
circle  of  the  golden  great  a  baser  ambition  to  shine 
in  the  reflected  light  of  his  splendid  victims,  who 
shall  begrudge  it  him.^*  Is  not  the  artist  worthy 
of  his  fame  ? 

And  so  John  Wilkes,  demagogue,  "Apostle  of 
Liberty,"  esteemed  the  wittiest  and  the  most 
dangerous  man  of  his  day,  comes  within  James 
Boswell's  ken.  He  is  not  to  be  won  as  were  the 
philosophers.  Our  artist,  however,  knows  many 
wiles,  and  the  approach  which  he  will  make  in 
this  case  will  be  of  a  quite  different  kind.  But  that, 
to  make  use  of  a  time-honored  phrase,  is  another 
story. 

[Note.  In  a  letter  from  Horace  Walpole  to  Thomas  Gray, 
written  not  long  after  Boswell's  encounters  with  the  French 
philosophers,  a  pertinent  reference  to  the  interviewer's 
methods,  and  their  effect  upon  at  least  one  of  the  inter- 
viewed, may  be  found. 


THE  FRENCH  PHILOSOPHERS         63 

"  18th  February,  1768 

"Pray  read  the  new  account  of  Corsica;  what  relates 
to  Paoli  will  amuse  you  much.  The  author,  Boswell,  is 
a  strange  being,  and,  like  Cambridge,  has  a  rage  for 
knowing  anybody  that  was  ever  talked  of.  He  forced 
himself  upon  me  in  spite  of  my  teeth  and  my  doors,  and 
I  see  he  has  given  a  foolish  account  of  all  he  could  pick 
up  from  me.  .  .  .  He  then  took  an  antipathy  to  me  on 
Rousseau's  account,  abused  me  in  the  newspapers,  and 
expected  Rousseau  to  do  so  too ;  but  as  he  came  to  see 
me  no  more,  I  forgave  him  the  rest.  I  see  he  is  now  a 
little  sick  of  Rousseau  himself,  but  I  hope  it  will  not 
cure  him  of  his  anger  to  me;  however,  his  book  will 
amuse  you."] 


CHAPTER  IV 
BOSWELL  AND  WILKES 

The  name  of  John  Wilkes  has  come  down  to 
posterity  vague,  to  be  sure,  but  with  a  definite 
connotation  of  evil.  There  is  about  it,  as  there  is 
about  that  of  Paine,  a  suspicion  of  brimstone  and 
demagogy.  It  is  derived,  perhaps,  from  that  cruel 
sketch  by  Hogarth,  in  which  Wilkes  is  depicted  as 
his  enemies  saw  him,  hideously  cross-eyed  and  with 
his  heavy  sensual  mouth  twisted  into  an  evil  leer. 
The  artist  has  contrived  to  do  more  than  set  down 
in  his  hard  outlines  the  impression  of  Wilkes's 
physical  deformity:  he  has  interpreted  it  as  the 
outward  mark  of  an  obliquity  of  character. 

The  evil  that  Wilkes  did  has  lived  after  him. 
And  yet,  if  any  man  of  the  century  had  a  right  to 
hope  that  he  would  survive  his  contemporary  repu- 
tation, and  be  thought  of  as  playing  no  mean  part 
in  the  development  of  British  freedom,  that  man 
was  John  Wilkes.  With  the  attempt  on  the  part  of 
George  III  to  drive  him  out  of  Parliament  we  may, 
in  truth,  read  the  story  of  the  last  open  attempt 
to  exalt  the  prerogative  of  the  crown  over  the  right 
of  the  people  to  choose  their  own  representatives 
in  the  House  of  Commons.     It  would  seem  as  if 


John  Wilkes 

lloyartirs  eiiffraviiiff.  from  a  portniit  olliis  own.  nIidw  iim'  tlu'  issm-s  ol'  tin- 

North  Briton,  iii\\\\'\i.\\  Nmiiber  IT  lontMiiU'il  Wilkes's  attark  iipi)li  tlu- painlcr 

ami  Number  i'>  led  to  Wilkes's  iinprisoiiiueiit  in  the  I'ow  er 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  65 

Wilkes  might  have  been  remembered  as  one  who, 
in  winning  the  devotion  of  the  common  people  and 
the  personal  enmity  of  his  King,  had  vindicated  a 
great  principle  of  English  liberty ;  but  his  reputa- 
tion was  against  him.  He  was  a  gay  profligate. 
He  contrived,  in  the  course  of  a  long  career,  to 
outrage  every  tradition  of  British  respectability. 
He  was  a  free-thinker,  a  disloyal  husband,  and  a 
wit.  He  delighted  in  wine  and  in  revelry,  and 
purveyed  foul  literature  among  his  friends.  He 
was  suspected,  not  without  some  justice,  of  using 
his  appeal  for  British  liberty  to  advance  his  per- 
sonal interests.  He  had  an  obvious  delight  in  the 
mischief  which  he  caused,  and  employed  his  polit- 
ical sagacity  to  show  his  friends  how  close  he  could 
sail  to  the  wind.  It  was  impossible,  however,  to 
belittle  his  general  attractiveness,  for  he  had 
demonstrated  his  physical  courage  upon  the  field 
of  honour,  and  retained  his  good  spirits  and  his 
wit  while  shut  up  in  prison.  He  was  a  man  of 
education,  genuinely  interested  in  the  classics,  and 
ambitious  of  becoming  an  historian.  He  was  a 
loving  father  and  a  devoted  friend.  He  could  win 
over  an  enemy  by  his  courtesy  and  his  wit.  In 
short,  he  was  a  man  of  whom  respectable  British 
folk  could  make  nothing  at  all. 

It  was  in  the  spring  of  1763  that  Wilkes  faced  the 
first  great  crisis  of  his  political  life.     He  was  at  the 


66  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

time  one  of  the  Whig  leaders  of  the  opposition, 
against  the  young  King  and  his  Prime  Minister, 
Lord  Bute.  Bute,  who  was  thought  to  be  the  tool 
of  the  King's  mother,  had  the  additional  misfor- 
tune of  being  a  Scot.  The  people  of  England  had 
not  yet  forgotten  the  days  of  '45  and  the  Scottish 
devotion  to  the  Young  Pretender,  and  Bute  had 
proved  himself  unable  to  dispel  the  national  preju- 
dice. He  had,  it  is  true,  sought  to  establish  the 
popularity  of  his  government  by  means  of  the 
journalist  and  the  pamphleteer.  One  of  these, 
Smollett,  had  established  a  paper  entitled  "The 
Briton,"  which  existed  to  spread  Bute's  policy  of 
royal  aggrandisement.  Wilkes  saw  an  opportu- 
nity to  establish  a  rival  journal,  which  should  play 
upon  the  national  dislike  of  the  Scots,  and  rouse 
the  people  against  the  influences  to  which  the  King 
had  committed  himself  and  the  Tory  party.  He 
challenged  Smollett  and  the  supporters  of  "The 
Briton"  by  naming  his  own  journal,  with  charac- 
teristic impudence,  "The  North-Briton."  It  be- 
came notorious  for  its  free  speech  and  its  personal 
invective ;  but  results  proved  the  efiicacy  of  the 
weapons  which  he  had  chosen.  In  April  Bute 
resigned.  Wilkes  at  once  brought  "The  North- 
Briton"  to  an  end. 

The    succeeding    Prime    Minister   was    George 
Grenville,  a  man  of  feeble  powers  and  stubborn 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  67 

character,  whose  policies,  as  soon  as  they  were  an- 
nounced, proved  to  be  as  offensive  to  Wilkes  and 
his  party  as  those  of  his  predecessor  had  been. 
Grenville's  policies,  which  disgusted  Wilkes  as 
much  as  Bute's  had  done,  were  set  before  Parlia- 
ment by  King  George  in  the  initial  "speech  from 
the  throne."  Wilkes  put  forth  a  new  issue  of  "The 
North-Briton,"  numbering  it,  consecutively  with 
the  preceding  issues,  45.  In  this  paper,  though 
Wilkes  was  as  violent  as  ever  in  the  language  which 
he  employed,  he  was  careful  to  guard  himself  by 
the  assertion  that  the  royal  address  was  always  to 
be  looked  upon  as  the  speech  of  the  ministry.  The 
King,  he  remarked,  was  "responsible  to  his  people 
for  the  due  exercise  of  the  royal  functions,  in  the 
choice  of  his  minister,  &c.,  equal  with  the  meanest 
of  subjects  in  his  particular  duty."  Such  language 
did  not  please  the  young  King  and  his  new  minis- 
ter, and  they  proceeded  at  once  to  move  against 
Wilkes.  A  "general  warrant,"  that  is,  a  warrant 
for  the  arrest  and  imprisonment  of  anyone  who  has 
fallen  under  the  suspicion  of  the  bearer,  was  rashly 
issued  by  Lord  Halifax.  It  was  the  intention  to 
shut  Wilkes  up  in  the  Tower  and  to  bring  him  to 
trial  for  sedition.  Wilkes,  who  seems  at  no  time  to 
have  lost  sight  of  the  amusing  aspect  of  what  was 
going  on,  eluded  his  captors  for  a  time,  did  what  he 
could  to  destroy  or  spoil  the  evidence  against  him. 


68  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

and  then  permitted  himself  to  be  taken.    He  was 
at  once  committed  to  the  Tower. 

There  ensued  a  period  of  the  utmost  excitement. 
Here  was  a  flagrant  abuse  of  the  principle  of  the 
liberty  of  the  subject.  Were  the  free-born  to  be 
hurled  into  prison  at  the  whim  of  the  House  of 
Hanover  .f^  And  yet  were  all  these  solemn  prin- 
ciples of  English  freedom  to  be  invoked  on  behalf 
of  a  libertine  who  had  spoken  lightly  of  sacred 
majesty  ?  What  was  to  become  of  British  decorum 
and  the  ceremonial  which  Englishmen  are  scrupu- 
lous in  paying  to  their  elected  monarch.?  Yet 
Wilkes  had  been  clapped  into  prison  by  a  display 
of  power  as  tyrannical  as  that  of  a  Persian  despot. 
No  prisoner  of  the  Bastille  was  more  unjustly  in- 
carcerated. What  was  to  be  done.^^  As  usual, 
matters  were  patched  up  —  for  the  moment.  On 
May  6,  Wilkes  was  brought  before  the  Court  of 
Common  Pleas,  and,  after  a  hearing,  discharged, 
on  the  ground  that  the  privilege  of  Parliament 
extended  to  his  case,  and  that  he  ought  never  to 
have  been  arrested.  But  it  was  clear  to  all  the 
world  that  the  prisoner  had  been  released  as  a 
privileged  person,  and  that  his  vindication  was  by 
no  means  complete.  Wilkes  emerged  with  a  tre- 
mendously increased  reputation  —  a  problem  to 
his  party,  a  thorn  in  the  side  of  the  King,  and  the 
idol  of  the  crowd.     It  was  at  this  moment,  when 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  69 

Wilkes's  name  was  on  every  lip,  when  his  every 
word  and  every  act  were  watched  with  the  most 
anxious  care  by  all  who  had  the  good  of  the  nation 
at  heart,  that  young  James  Boswell,  just  out  of 
leading-strings,  determined  to  make  his  acquaint- 
ance. 

The  two  had  little  enough  in  common.  Wilkes 
was  a  Whig ;  Boswell  was  a  Tory,  and  a  Tory  who 
had  an  instinctive  sympathy  with  the  most  ex- 
travagant claims  of  royalty.  Wilkes,  though  a 
nominal  adherent  of  the  English  Church,  was  a 
free-thinker.  Boswell  was  a  Christian  and  longed 
to  be  a  Catholic.  Wilkes,  unlike  Boswell,  was  no 
respecter  of  persons.  Moreover,  he  affected,  in 
particular,  a  contempt  of  Scots.  But  all  this  was 
no  let  to  Boswell.  He  declined  to  take  seriously 
the  older  man's  dislike  of  his  race ;  at  worst,  it  but 
emphasised  the  necessity  of  showing  him  how 
metropolitan  a  Scotsman  might  be.  In  all  his 
later  relations  with  Wilkes,  Boswell  kept  his  nation- 
ality to  the  fore,  so  that  in  time  Wilkes  came  to 
call  him  "my  old  Lord  of  Scotland,"  and  said  he 
looked  as  if  he  had  a  thousand  men  at  his  back. 

But  it  was  the  gaiety  of  W^ilkes  that  appealed 
especially  to  Boswell.  It  was  clear  to  him  that 
Wilkes,  with  all  his  eminence,  never  forgot  to 
"shine,"  never  forgot  that  social  intercourse  with 
the  world  of  wit  was  the  goal  of  human  endeavour. 


70  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Here  was  the  link  between  them.  Here  was  the 
method  of  approach.  "I  glory  in  being  an  en- 
thusiast for  my  king  and  for  my  religion,  and  I 
scorn  the  least  appearance  of  dissimulation,"  he 
wrote  to  him  after  the  establishment  of  their  in- 
timacy. "As  the  gay  John  Wilkes,  you  are  most 
pleasing  to  me.  .  .  .  Let  serious  matters  be  out 
of  the  question,  and  you  and  I  can  perfectly  har- 
monise." In  one  respect  Bos  well  knew  that  he 
was  the  equal  of  Wilkes  —  in  impudence.  He 
would  show  that  he  knew  as  well  as  another  how 
to  deal  with  a  gay  dog.  An  attitude  of  trembling 
reverence  is  not  the  way  to  win  a  boon  companion, 
and  therefore  of  this  role  in  his  repertory  Boswell 
made  no  use  in  his  relations  with  Wilkes.  He 
showed  him  from  the  beginning  that  he  was  not 
dazzled ;  and  the  great  man,  like  many  another, 
responded  instinctively  to  the  genial  youth  who 
dared  to  show  that  he  was  not  afraid  of  him. 

The  immediate  occasion  of  Boswell's  first  meet- 
ing with  Wilkes  is,  unhappily,  unknown.  It  must 
have  occurred  about  the  time  of  the  first  meeting 
with  Johnson.  At  any  rate,  by  July,  1763,  their 
association  was  well  under  way,  and  Boswell  had 
begun  to  collect  anecdotes  about  Wilkes.  "I  must 
tell  you  a  joke  on  Wilkes,"  he  writes  to  Sir  David 
Dalrymple.  "He  was  coming  out  of  Ranelagh 
some  nights  ago,  and  the  footmen  were  bawling 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  71 

out,  *Mr.  Wilkes's  coach!  Mr.  Wilkes's  coach!' 
Lord  Kelly  run  to  the  door,  and  cried,  *  Mr.  Wilkes's 
coach.  No.  45  ! '  —  a  number  which  had  long  since 
become  infamous  from  its  association  with  Wilkes 
and  the  *  North-Briton.' " 

But  it  was  unfortunately  necessary  to  interrupt 
the  collection  of  anecdotes,  and  obey  the  paternal 
commands  to  go  abroad  and  study  the  law.  More- 
over, Wilkes  was  himself  on  the  point  of  leaving 
England.  "I  told  him,"  writes  Boswell  to  Sir 
David  Dalrymple,  "I  was  to  be  in  Utrecht  next 
winter.  He  said,  *If  you  will  write  to  me  in 
George  Street,  I  will  send  you  the  detail  of  this 
country.'  This  was  very  obliging.  It  would  be  a 
vast  treasure."  At  this  point  Boswell  remembers 
that  he  is  writing  to  an  older  man  whose  political 
opinions  were  far  from  radical,  and  adds  dutifully, 
"But  I  don't  know'  if  it  would  be  proper  to  keep 
a  correspondence  with  a  gentleman  in  his  present 
capacity.  It  was  a  great  honour  to  me  his  offering 
it.     I  must  be  proud.     Advise  me  fully  about  it." 

And  so  the  separation  between  the  two  took 
place ;  but  there  was  no  opportunity  for  Boswell  to 
acquire  the  vast  treasure  of  a  weekly  detail  of  the 
news  of  Great  Britain.  As  soon  as  the  House  of 
Commons  convened  in  the  following  November, 
the  attack  upon  Wilkes  was  renewed,  and  he  had 
no  rest  until  the  end  of  the  year,  when  he  once  more 


72  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

left  England  for  France.  In  January  he  was  ex- 
pelled from  the  House,  and  a  month  later  was 
found  guilty  in  the  courts  of  having  printed  No. 
45  of  "The  North-Briton."  As  he  did  not  return 
to  England  to  receive  his  sentence,  he  was  declared 
an  outlaw. 

Such  was,  roughly,  the  posture  of  events  in  1764, 
while  Boswell  was  studying  in  Utrecht  and,  later, 
travelling  in  Germany.  But  there  are  two  events 
in  the  personal  life  of  Wilkes  which  it  is  necessary 
to  mention,  if  we  are  to  understand  the  relations 
between  the  two  men  when  they  were  reestablished 
at  the  beginning  of  the  following  year.  Wilkes  had 
fallen  in  love  with  an  Italian  courtesan,  named 
Gertrude  Corradini,  and  had  lived  with  her  for  a 
long  time  in  Paris.  At  the  end  of  the  year  1764 
they  separated,  Corradini  travelling  in  state  (at 
Wilkes's  expense)  to  her  home  in  Italy,  where  he 
was  planning  to  join  her  in  January.  The  journey 
of  the  pair  of  them  across  France  and  Italy  savours 
a  little  of  flight  and  pursuit  —  a  relation  between 
them  which  presently  became  obvious.  But, 
though  Wilkes  had  given  himself  over  to  pleasure, 
he  was  far  from  happy.  He  had  expected  to  have 
the  companionship,  during  the  winter,  of  his  de- 
voted friend,  the  poet  Churchill;  and,  indeed, 
Churchill  had  actually  joined  him  at  Boulogne  in 
the  previous  October.     But  he  had  been  almost 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  73 

immediately  attacked  by  a  fever,  and  had  lived 
but  a  few  days.  Perhaps  no  event  in  the  life  of 
Wilkes  touched  him  more  deeply  than  this.  In 
so  far  as  his  nature  was  capable  of  love,  he  had 
loved  Churchill,  and  the  loss  of  him  he  never  ceased 
to  lament. 

When,  therefore,  Wilkes  arrived  in  Turin,  early 
in  the  month  of  January,  he  was  still  cast  down  by 
his  recent  bereavement ;  he  was,  furthermore,  in  a 
state  of  intense  annoyance  at  his  mistress.  The 
agreement  between  them  had  been  to  meet  at 
Turin ;  but  Corradini,  on  arrival,  had  complained 
of  rheumatism,  and  made  ofiF,  leaving  word  for 
Wilkes  that  she  had  gone  on  to  Bologna.  At  this 
moment,  luck  brought  James  Boswell  also  to 
Turin.  He  at  once  made  overtures  to  Wilkes  by 
dispatching  a  letter  to  him  in  which  he  proposed 
that  they  should  dine  together.  This  is  the  first 
of  the  letters  of  Boswell  addressed  to  Wilkes  that 
has  come  down  to  us,  and  it  is,  for  several  reasons, 
a  curious  document.  Its  tone  of  mingled  good 
fellowship  and  impudence  is  a  plain  revelation  of 
Boswell's  manner  when  with  Wilkes,  and  is  in  the 
most  surprising  and  significant  contrast  to  the 
attitude  of  cringing  servility  which  he  is  commonly 
supposed  to  have  adopted.  But  the  letter  piques 
our  interest  for  a  totally  difiFerent  reason.  The 
writing  on  one  half  of  the  page  has,  unfortunately, 


74  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

been  obliterated.  The  letter,  which  is  in  the 
British  Museum,  is  one  of  a  group  deposited  there 
with  other  important  papers  of  John  Wilkes.  The 
packet  of  Boswell's  letters  has  at  some  time  or 
other  been  wetted,  and  the  top  sheets  seriously  in- 
jured. All  that  can  be  read  of  the  first  page  is 
this :  — 

Sir, 

I  am  to 
is  now  in  Turin, 
my  monarchical 
As  a  Scotsman 
As  a  Freind  I 
a  companion  I  lo 
it  is  not  decent  fo 
him  :  yet  I  wish 
I  shall  be  alone, 
dinner  upon  my  ta 
If  Mr.  Wilkes  chus 
Guest,  I  shall  by 
it.     I  may  venture 
be  very  wellcome, 
him  a  feast  of  mo 
and  choice  Conversa 

Bos 
Turin,  10  January  1765. 

When  I  first  came  across  this  letter,  I  was  re- 
minded of  the  fragmentary  document  in  "Monte 
Cristo"  that  assisted  Edmond  Dantes  in  his  escape 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  15 

from  the  Chateau  d'If.  By  dint  of  measuring 
Hues,  and  holding  the  sheet  up  to  the  light  to  study 
the  position  of  vague  upward  strokes  of  otherwise 
obliterated  words,  it  is  possible  to  guess  at  the  half- 
lines  that  the  water  has  washed  away,  and  to  re- 
construct a  letter  which,  if  not  a  reliable  repro- 
duction of  the  original,  at  least  makes  clear  sense. 
I  think  we  may  take  it  as  a  fairly  close  approxima- 
tion to  the  general  drift  of  the  original. 

Sir, 

I  am  told  that  Mr.  Wilkes 
is  now  in  Turin.     I  assure  you  that 
my  monarchical  soul  is  roused. 
As  a  Scotsman,  I  abhor  him. 
As  a  Freind,  I  value  him.     As 
a  companion  I  love  him,  and  altho 
it  is  not  decent  for  me  to  ask  him, 
yet  I  wish  much  to  see  him. 
I  shall  be  alone  this  evening,  with 
dinner  upon  my  table  for  two. 
If  Mr.  Wilkes  chuses  to  be  my 
Guest,  I  shall  by  no  means  resent 
it.     I  may  venture  to  add  that  he  will 
be  very  wellcome,  and  to  promise 
him  a  feast  of  most  excellent  wine 
and  choice  Conversation. 

Bos  WELL. 

Turin,  10  January,  1765. 

Wilkes,  it  would  appear,  declined  this  invitation. 
The  letter  which  follows  this  one  is  also  frag- 


76  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

mentary ;  but  in  this  case  it  is  the  upper  half  of  the 
page  which  has  been  obhterated ;  we  have,  however, 
two  or  three  complete  sentences,  which  enable  us, 
despite  the  absence  of  a  date,  to  divine  its  relation 
to  the  preceding  one.  It  is  clear  that  Boswell  had 
not  heard  of  the  death  of  Churchill,  and  that 
Wilkes,  in  replying  to  the  letter  we  have  tried  to 
reconstruct  above,  spoke  of  it.  It  would  appear 
that  he  used  his  grief  as  an  excuse  for  declining 
Boswell's  invitation;  at  any  rate,  there  was  some 
obstacle  to  their  meeting,  for  the  next  letter  reads : 

.  .  .  ChurchilFs  death  fills  me  with  generous  sym- 
pathy with  you.  Is  it  not  well  that  you  pause  and 
reflect  a  little?  Might  we  not  have  an  interview  and 
continue  the  conversation  on  the  immateriality  of  the 
soul  which  you  had  with  my  countryman  Baxter  many 
years  ago  at  Brussels  ? 

To  men  of  philosophical  minds  there  are  surely 
moments  in  which  they  set  aside  their  nation,  their  .  .  . 

The  water  has  destroyed  for  ever  James  Boswell's 
fine  sentiment  on  the  death  of  Churchill ;  but  the 
next  sentences  are  a  priceless  revelation  of  his 
typical  method  of  approach  :  — 

John  Wilkes,  the  fiery  Whig,  would  despise  this  senti- 
ment. John  Wilkes  the  gay  profligate,  would  laugh  at 
it.  But  John  Wilkes  the  philosopher  will  feel  it  and 
will  love  it. 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  77 

You  have  no  objection  to  sitting  up  a  little  late.  Per- 
haps you  may  come  to  me  tonight.  I  hope  at  any  rate 
you  will  dine  with  me  tomorrow. 

James  Boswell  is  not  easily  put  down.  You  may 
not  care  to  revel  with  him,  because  your  heart  is 
heavy  with  grief ;  but  surely,  surely,  you  will  wish 
to  comfort  yourself  by  discussing  the  immortality 
of  the  soul.  Let  philosophy  replace  hilarity.  You 
once  told  Boswell  of  your  conversation  with  Baxter 
years  ago,  at  Spa,  on  this  very  theme.  Now  is  the 
time  to  continue  it !  Surely  it  is  well  for  us  revel- 
lers to  pause  and  reflect  a  little.  In  any  case,  the 
important  business  is  that  James  Boswell  should 
get  into  the  presence  of  Wilkes. —  And  so,  indeed, 
he  did,  either  at  Turin  or  some  more  southerly 
town. 

The  next  letter  of  Boswell's  is  dated  March  2, 
and  is  written  in  Latin,  from  Baise.  The  tone  of 
it  makes  clear  that  cordial  relations  between  the 
two  are  now  permanently  established.  Their  in- 
timacy has  progressed  to  the  use  of  nicknames : 
Wilkes,  because  of  his  disloyalty  to  his  King,  is 
"Brutus,"  and  Boswell  is  the  "avenger  of  Caesar." 
There  has  been  much  political  brawling  (jurgia) 
between  them,  much  fine  talk  about  literature  and 
about  Wilkes's  proposed  edition,  with  notes,  of  the 
poems  of  Churchill,  whose  literary  executor  he 
was.    There  has  been  also  much  "classical"  con- 


78  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

versation, —  whence  this  Latin  letter, —  not  to 
mention  much  joviaHty  over  the  wine-bottle.  But, 
best  of  all,  Wilkes  has  promised  to  join  Boswell  in 
Naples  —  so  much  had  been  extracted  from  him 
at  Rome,  where  the  association,  begun  at  Turin, 
had  been  continued.  And  now  Boswell,  after  a 
long  and  jolting  journey  over  the  Appian  Way, 
has  reached  Naples, — "dead  Parthenope's  fair 
tomb," — and,  for  some  reason,  had  gone  on  to  Baise. 

Caesaris  ultor  Brutum  in  exilio  salutat.  Hesterna 
nocte  Parthenopen  hanc  attigi.  Membra  fere  fractus 
dura  ista  Appia,  quamvis  tardissimus  et  etiam  quoda- 
modo  serpens  processus  sum. 

Egregium  sane  tempus  invenio  Baiis ;  caelum  luridum, 
preeellam  fortem,  pluvium  continuum.  Tali  tempore 
non  mirandum  si  Anglus  antiquus  fune  se  suspenderet ; 
sed  pauper  Scotus,  si  victum  tantum  habet,  omni 
tempore  contentus  vivit. 

Precor  mihi  scire  facias  quando  consortio  tuo  frui 
possim ;  non  interest  quo  prsebente  domum,  nam  apud 
te  vel  apud  me  vinum  et  hilaritas  erunt.  Ne  oblivis- 
caris  promissi  quod  mihi  Romse  dedisti,  nos  multum 
simul  fore  Napoli.  Summam  spero  voluptatem  legendo 
notas  tuas  acres  in  poemata  acria  Churchilli,  qui  nunc 
cum  Juvenale  est.  Musis  amicus  politica  jurgia  tradam 
ventis.  Latinam  linguam  scribere  haud  assuetus, 
tamen  in  hac  regione  classica  experiri  volui.  Excuses 
et  valeas. 

Die  20  Martii, 
Anno  1765. 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  79 

Wilkes  was  already  in  Naples.  He  had  had  the 
same  jolting  in  getting  there  that  had  almost 
demolished  the  limbs  of  Boswell.  The  pavement 
of  the  Appian  Way,  he  tells  his  daughter,  was  "  in- 
tolerably hard,  and  so  slippery  that  the  horses  were 
continually  coming  down  on  their  knees."  There 
were  bad  holes  even  in  the  road  from  Capua  to 
Naples.  Wilkes's  promise  to  be  with  Boswell  was 
redeemed.  Together  they  ascended  Vesuvius. 
Although  a  *' clear  cold  day,"  the  sixteenth  of 
March,  was  chosen  for  the  expedition,  they  sacri- 
ficed their  skin  to  the  blazing  sun  and  the  burning 
heat  of  volcanic  ashes.  According  to  Wilkes's 
account,  he,  for  his  part,  was  pushed  and  pulled  to 
the  summit  by  the  efforts  of  five  men ;  nor  can  we 
believe  that  our  friend  Boswell,  who  was  of  no 
athletic  frame  and  was  given  to  self-indulgence, 
acquitted  himself  with  more  distinction.  From 
Wilkes's  vivid  account  of  the  crater,  it  is  easy  to 
imagine  the  pair  of  them,  prone  on  their  bellies  and 
suffocated  by  the  smoke,  peering  down  the  crater 
at  the  ragged  mountains  of  yellow  sulphur  below. 
When  the  wind  swept  the  smoke  towards  them, 
they  were  obliged  "hastily  to  retire,"  and  de- 
scended in  great  discomfort,  almost  up  to  the 
knees  in  ashes.  Boswell  never  forgot  this  exploit, 
and  decades  later,  when  writing  to  Wilkes,  referred 
to  himself  as  "your  Vesuvius  fellow-traveller." 


80  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Such  experiences,  indeed,  serve  to  draw  men 
together ;  old  associations  of  this  kind  are  the  best 
antidote  to  estrangement.  James  Boswell,  by  rea- 
son of  his  association  with  Wilkes  in  a  foreign 
land,  thus  completed  his  conquest  of  the  great  man 
by  establishing  a  common  fund  of  memories  on 
which  they  might  draw  in  future.  "The  many 
pleasant  hours  which  we  passed  together  at 
Naples,"  wrote  Boswell  on  his  return,  a  month 
later,  to  Rome,  "shall  never  be  lost."  —  "I  shall 
never  forget  your  civilities  to  me,"  Wilkes  had  told 
the  young  man  at  parting.  "You  are  engraven 
upon  my  heart." 

Boswell  and  Wilkes  did  not  meet  again  upon  the 
Continent.  The  younger  man  returned  to  Rome, 
to  resume  his  studies  of  antiquities ;  but  he  did  not 
neglect  the  friendship  which  had  been  so  happily 
begun.  Wilkes  had  agreed  to  correspond  with 
him,  and  Boswell  was  not  the  man  to  permit  him 
to  treat  that  promise  lightly.  He  wrote  Wilkes 
two  long  letters  from  Rome,  and  one  from  Terni. 
The  contents  of  these  letters  afford  us  a  notion  of 
the  kind  of  conversation  that  went  on  between  the 
two,  much  of  which  was,  plainly,  political  banter. 
Wilkes  was  amazed,  and  he  was  delighted  —  who 
can  doubt  it  ?  —  with  the  effrontery  of  a  young 
man  who  dared  to  make  him  the  subject  of  a 
satirical  poem  and  to  instruct  him  with  regard  to 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  81 

the  amiable  character  of  his  ancient  enemy,  Lord 
Bute. 

"Some  days  ago,"  he  writes  to  Wilkes  from 
Rome,  "nothing  would  serve  me  but  to  write  you 
an  Heroic  Epistle."  Boswell  was  ever  vaguely 
ambitious  to  produce  satiric  verse,  and  in  the 
course  of  his  life  published  a  number  of  such  pieces, 
besides  leaving  behind  him  a  large  quantity  of 
verse  in  MS.,  apparently  designed  for  publication. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  he  planned  to  print  the 
"Epistle  to  Wilkes"  if  he  could  bring  himself  to 
finish  it,  not  so  much,  perhaps,  for  its  poetic  value, 
as  for  indubitable  evidence  to  the  British  public 
that  he  was  now  intimate  with  the  notorious 
politician  in  exile.  In  a  later  letter  he  told  Wilkes 
that  he  had  had  a  flow  of  spirits,  in  which  he  had 
dashed  off  some  hundred  and  fifty  lines  of  the 
Epistle.  It  is  to  be  hoped  that  this  continuation 
was  sprightlier  than  the  following  specimen,  which 
he  submitted  to  Wilkes  :  — 

To  thee,  gay  Wilkes,  tho'  outlaw'd,  still  as  gay, 
As  when  Dan  Armstrong  wrote  his  German  "Day," 
Another  Scot  now  sends  his  English  rhymes ; 
Spite  of  the  Whiggish  broils  which  mark  our  times ; 
Spite  of  the  rude  North-Briton's  factious  rage, 
And  all  th'  abuse  of  thy  imputed  page. 

Armstrong  and  Wilkes  had  once  quarrelled  over 
a  poem  of  the  former's,  entitled  "Day,"  which  the 


82  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Scottish  poet,  then  resident  in  Germany,  had  en- 
trusted to  Wilkes  for  publication,  and  in  which 
Wilkes  had  ventured  to  make  certain  alterations. 
But  there  was  no  danger  of  a  quarrel  between  the 
demagogue  and  his  new  poet.  Wilkes  chuckled 
at  the  lines,  and  told  his  young  friend  to  go  ahead 
with  the  verses.  He  was  amused  at  Boswell's 
Toryism,  and  apparently  enjoyed  his  invectives, 
which  he  deliberately  elicited  for  the  genial  pur- 
pose of  laughing  at  them. 

You  may  think  as  you  please,"  Boswell  writes, 

but  I  have  no  small  pride  in  being  able  to  write 
to  you  with  this  gay  good  humour,  for  I  do,  in  my 
conscience,  believe  you  to  be  an  enemy  to  the  true 
old  British  Constitution,  and  to  the  order  and 
happiness  of  society.  That  is  to  say,  I  believe  you 
to  be  a  very  Whig  and  a  very  libertine." 

When  you  are  corresponding  with  an  eccentric 
plain-dealer  like  this,  you  must  give  yourself  over 
either  to  indignation  or  to  amusement;  the  only 
alternative  is  to  mend  your  ways.  Wilkes,  who 
was  himself  a  plain-dealer,  enjoyed  this  turning  of 
the  tables,  and  so  the  friendship  continued. 

But  it  was  destined  to  be  very  seriously  inter- 
rupted by  the  tour  to  Corsica.  Letters,  it  is  true, 
were  exchanged  between  them  after  Boswell's 
return  from  the  island.  Wilkes  wrote  with  true 
sympathy  on  the  occasion  of  the  death  of  Boswell's 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  83 

mother,  and  Boswell  invited  Wilkes  to  visit  him 
at  Auchinleck ;  but  there  was  no  real  intimacy  be- 
tween them  for  many  years  afterwards.  This  was 
probably  due  in  part  to  Boswell's  growing  friend- 
ship with  Johnson.  In  the  "Life,"  Boswell,  speak- 
ing of  his  return  from  the  Continent,  remarks :  "I 
having  mentioned  that  I  had  passed  some  time  with 
Rousseau  in  his  wild  retreat,  and  having  quoted 
some  remark  made  by  Mr.  Wilkes,  with  whom  I 
had  spent  many  pleasant  hours  in  Italy,  John- 
son said  (sarcastically),  *It  seems.  Sir,  you  have 
kept  very  good  company  abroad,  Rousseau  and 
Wilkes  !' "  Boswell  was  not  yet  sufficiently  sure  of 
himself  and  Johnson  to  propose  bringing  the  two 
together.    And  so  they  drifted  apart. 

In  the  year  1774,  W^ilkes's  amazing  political 
fortunes  elevated  him  to  the  office  of  Lord  Mayor 
of  London.  Boswell  at  once  renewed  the  old 
associations.  He  addressed  him  as  "My  Lord" 
(to  Wilkes's  express  disgust),  and  they  were  clas- 
sical and  gay,  as  in  their  Italian  days.  Wilkes  gave 
Boswell  a  special  invitation  to  the  great  dinner 
in  the  Mansion  House  on  Easter  Tuesday,  1775. 
This  entertainment,  as  was  fitting  when  a  popular 
idol  had  become  chief  magistrate  of  the  city,  sur- 
passed in  magnificence  all  former  events  of  the 
sort.  The  press-cuttings  preserved  at  the  Guild- 
hall give  the  following  account  of  it :  — 


84  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

In  the  Egyptian  Hall,  where  the  company  dined,  was 
a  beautiful  piece,  painted  in  an  inimitable  taste,  which, 
it  is  said,  represented  the  triumph  of  Bacchus  and 
Ariadne,  or  love  united  with  wine.  Besides  the  usual 
profusion  of  wines  and  eatables,  which  were  remarkably 
good  in  their  kind,  and  set  off  in  the  greatest  elegance, 
as  well  as  much  warmer  than  commonly  is  the  case  at 
those  great  dinners,  the  guests  were  here  presented  with 
another  novelty,  which  had  a  most  pleasing  effect, 
many  of  Mr.  Cox's  pieces  of  mechanism,  from  the 
Museum,  all  in  full  tune,  and  which  continued  their 
musical  movements,  during  the  greatest  part  of  the 
dinner.  The  dessert  was  in  the  same  pleasing  style,  at 
once  great  and  elegant.  In  the  ball-room  taste  and 
magnificence  prevailed. 

Among  the  "elegant  and  orderly  company"  is 
found  the  name  of  Mr.  Boswell,  and,  later,  this 
highly  characteristic  anecdote,  which  bears  on  its 
face  the  marks  of  its  authenticity :  — 

At  dinner  Mr.  Boswell,  who  had  taken  care  to  secure 
good  room,  seeing  Mr.  Colman  in  want  of  a  place, 
called  to  him,  and  gave  him  one  beside  himself,  saying, 
"  See  what  it  is  to  have  a  Scotchman  for  your  friend  at 
Mr.  Wilkes's  table."  A  little  time  after  there  came  a 
foreign  waiter  with  something;  Mr.  Boswell  talked  to 
him  in  German,  upon  which  Mr.  Colman  wittily  ob- 
served, "I  have  certainly  mistaken  the  place  to-day.  I 
thought  I  was  at  the  Mansion  House,  but  I  must  surely 
be  at  St.  James's,  for  here  are  nothing  but  Germans 
and  Scots." 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  85 

Boswell  made  the  most  of  his  new  opportunities, 
promised  Miss  Wilkes  (now  the  Lady  Mayoress) 
a  copy  of  the  Glasgow  edition  of  the  poems  of  Gray, 
and  the  Lord  Mayor  a  present  of  some  black  game, 
and,  moreover,  requested  the  renewal  of  their 
correspondence. 

It  is  long  since  I  enjoyed  the  pleasure  of  your  cor- 
respondence. Will  you  renew  it  with  me  now?  I 
should  value,  as  curiosities  of  the  first  rate,  lively  sallies 
from  a  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  such  as  those  from  IVIr. 
Wilkes  which  are  preserved  in  my  cabinet. 

But  no  letters  appear  to  have  been  written  as  a 
result  of  this  request. 

Boswell's  most  remarkable  exploit  with  Wilkes 
occurred  the  next  year :  it  consisted,  as  all  the 
world  knows,  in  bringing  the  demagogue  and  Dr. 
Johnson  together  at  dinner  at  Mr.  Dilly's.  The 
success  of  this  social  experiment,  which  would  have 
taxed  the  skill  of  the  most  accomplished  dowager 
in  London,  was  a  source  of  permanent  satisfaction 
to  Boswell,  who  prefaces  his  description  of  it  in  the 
"Life"  with  the  proud  words,  "Pars  magna  fui." 
The  description  constitutes  perhaps  the  most 
famous  page  in  that  famous  book.  It  has  delighted 
the  world  of  readers  ever  since;  and  that  delight 
should  be  taken  as  a  measure  of  the  colour  and 
excitement  which  James  Boswell  knew  how  to 
introduce  into  the  conventional  life  in  which  he 


86  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

moved.  He  was  an  irritant  in  a  group  which  is 
Hkely  to  move  sluggishly,  according  to  dull  prece- 
dent, avoiding  novelties  and  revisions  of  judgment. 

Everybody,  I  repeat,  knows  the  story  of  the 
Wilkes  dinner,  and  many  know  the  story  of  its 
successor,  which  occurred  five  years  later  at  the 
same  place;  but  what  few  people  know  is  that 
Boswell  proposed,  and  almost  succeeded  in  bring- 
ing about,  a  third  meeting.  He  was  not  the  man 
to  halt  in  the  course  that  he  was  running.  It  was 
next  his  ambition  to  persuade  Dr.  Johnson  to  go 
to  dinner  at  Wilkes's  own  house.  To  see  Johnson 
under  the  roof  of  the  man  who  had  been  his  bitter 
antagonist  —  to  bring  Mercury  and  Ursa  Major 
into  conjunction  —  that  would  be  a  constellation 
worth  observing !  What  a  page  for  the  *'  Life  of 
Johnson"  ! 

It  is  possible  that  the  invitation  which  Wilkes 
issued  to  Johnson  was  the  result  of  a  jest  or  a 
wager.  In  May,  1783,  Boswell  undertook  to 
negotiate  for  a  dinner  of  his  old  friends,  John  and 
Charles  Dilly,  at  the  home  of  Wilkes.  He  did  so 
in  a  highly  characteristic  epistle,  in  which  he  dis- 
tributed titles  with  a  free  hand,  complimented  Miss 
Wilkes,  reminded  her  father  that,  if  he  should  ever 
become  a  widower,  he  might  yet  sue  for  her  hand, 
and  so  become  Wilkes's  son-in-law,  introduced  the 
inevitable  quotation  from  Horace  and  the  equally 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  87 

inevitable  jest  on  Wilkes's  ugly  face.  It  would  be 
difficult  to  find  a  more  characteristic  letter,  yet  it 
covers  barely  a  single  page  in  Boswell's  generous 
hand.  It  is  necessary  to  add  that  the  High  Sher- 
iff of  Bedford  is  Mr.  John  Dilly,  the  Lord  Cham- 
berlain of  London  is  Wilkes,  and  the  Vesuvius 
traveller,  of  course,  Boswell  himself. 

General  Paoli's 
South  Audley  Street,  12  May. 
Dear  Sir,  — 

As  I  undertook  to  be  the  negociator  of  the  dinner  at 
your  house  —  the  High  Sheriff  of  Bedfordshire,  his 
brother  Mr.  Charles  Dilly,  and  an  old  Vesuvius  fellow- 
traveller  —  I  beg  to  know  if  next  Sunday,  the  18th  will 
be  convenient  for  the  Chamberlain  of  London.  This 
is  omnia  magna  loquens.  My  best  compliments  to  Miss 
Wilkes.  She  knows  my  conditional  threatening  that 
you  should  have  been  mon  beau  pere.  Ah  qu'il  est  beau! 
Vale  et  me  ama. 

James  Boswell. 

At  this  dinner  —  if  it  took  place  as  planned  — 
there  were  present  three  of  the  principals  who  had 
appeared  at  the  dinner  when  Johnson  was  first 
presented  to  Wilkes,  and  it  would  be  but  natural 
for  the  conversation  to  turn  upon  that  event.  Be 
this  as  it  may,  on  the  following  Wednesday  Bos- 
well wrote  to  Wilkes :  — 

Mr.  Boswell  finds  that  it  would  not  be  unpleasant 
to  Dr.  Johnson  to  dine  at  Mr.  Wilkes's.     The  thing 


88  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

would  be  so  curiously  benignant,  it  were  a  pity  it  should 
not  take  place.  Nobody  but  Mr.  Boswell  should  be 
asked  to  meet  the  Dr.  Mr.  Boswell  goes  for  Scotland 
Friday  the  30th.  If  then  a  card  were  sent  to  the  Dr. 
for  Monday,  Tuesday,  or  Wednesday  without  delay, 
it  is  to  be  hoped  he  would  be  fixed,  and  notice  will  be 
sent  to  Mr.  Boswell. 

But  Johnson,  capricious  as  a  prima  donna  (or  an 
heiress  in  a  post-chaise),  changed  his  mind.  He 
would  not  dine  with  Wilkes.  He  had  engagements. 
In  a  curt  note,  "Mr.  Johnson  returns  thanks  to 
Mr.  and  Miss  Wilkes  for  their  kind  invitation,  but 
he  is  engaged  for  Tuesday  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds, 
and  for  Wednesday  to  Mr.  Paradise,"  he  put  an 
end  to  the  negotiations.  This  note  was  made  the 
more  insulting  by  being  handed  to  Boswell  for 
transmission  to  Wilkes.  It  is  possible  that  Bos- 
well had  diflSculty  in  obtaining  even  this  formal 
word.  There  was  almost  certainly  a  scene.  The 
"Life"  is  silent  on  the  entire  matter,  and  there  is 
no  entry  for  May  24,  the  date  of  Johnson's  note. 
Those  who,  like  Boswell,  love  the  record  of  life  as 
it  actually  passed,  will  regret  his  silence  on  this 
subject;  but  they  will  regret  still  more  that  the 
dinner  in  Wilkes's  house  did  not  occur.  That  loss 
is  the  world's. 

Of  Boswell's  later  relations  wath  Wilkes  there  is 
but  little  to  record.     There  are  references  to  other 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  89 

dinners  (after  Johnson's  death)  at  Dilly's  and  at 
Wilkes's  house  in  Kensington  Gore,  where,  no 
doubt,  Boswell  met  Wilkes's  mistress.  The  letters 
in  reference  to  them  have  the  same  ring  as  the 
earliest  ones,  —  "Pray  let  us  meet  oftener,"  —  the 
same  proposal  that  Wilkes  should  make  an  amende 
honorable  to  the  Scots.  There  is,  unhappily,  a 
reference  to  money  which  Boswell  has  borrowed  of 
Wilkes.  And,  last  of  all,  six  weeks  after  the  ap- 
pearance of  the  "Life  of  Johnson,"  when  Wilkes 
was  sixty -four  years  old,  a  note  —  indeed,  a  mere 
scrap  —  which  well  reveals  Boswell's  undying 
passion  for  written  evidence,  as  well  as  his  instinct 
for  collecting. 

June  25. 
My  dear  Sir,  — 

You  said  to  me  yesterday  of  my  magnum  opus,  "  It 
is  a  wonderful  book."     Do  confirm  this  to  me,  so  as  I 
may  have  your  testimonium  in  my  archives  at  Auchin- 
leck.     I  trust  we  shall  meet  while  you  are  in  town. 
Every  most  truly  yours, 

James  Boswell. 

The  cabinet  at  Auchinleck !  What  would  one 
not  have  given  to  inspect  it.^^  Within  it  were 
treasured  the  letters  which  Boswell  had  received 
from  the  Great  —  letters  from  Johnson,  from 
Rousseau,  from  David  Hume,  from  Paoli,  from 
Burke,  from  Garrick,  from  Wilkes,  and  a  thousand 


90  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

others.  Moreover,  there  were  deposited  the  notes 
of  his  conversations  and  his  manifold  memorabiHa 
—  a  treasure  of  documents  for  the  Hfe  of  the  times. 
The  collection  must  have  been  shown  to  many  a 
visitor  to  Auchinleck  in  the  latter  days ;  but  lit- 
erary visitors,  alas,  were  few;  and  none  has  re- 
corded any  description  of  it.  When  it  perished, 
there  disappeared  for  ever  materials  out  of  which 
Boswell,  had  he  lived,  might  have  woven  the  story 
of  his  association  with  Wilkes.  Compared  with 
the  "Life  of  Johnson"  such  a  story  would  have 
been  a  mere  sketch;  but  it  would  have  been  a 
sketch  from  a  master-hand.  There  would  have 
been  in  it,  moreover,  an  elan^  a  hilarity,  a  love  of 
mischief  and  impudence,  that  could  not,  by  the 
nature  of  Boswell's  relations  with  Johnson,  appear 
in  the  great  "Life."  There  would  have  been,  in 
short,  more  fun.  But,  because  Boswell  was  a 
genius,  there  would  have  been  something  more  — 
a  vivid  characterisation  of  Wilkes,  done  by  a  man 
who  loved  him  but  had  no  illusions  about  him,  a 
man  who  had  penetrated  into  the  inmost  secrets 
of  his  life,  yet  had  remained  unaffected  by  his 
political  views.  It  might  not  have  been  a  defini- 
tive study  of  eighteenth-century  radicalism,  but  it 
would  have  been  Wilkes.  His  name  would  have 
been  in  no  danger  of  disappearing  from  the  minds 
of  men.     The  decree  of  fate   (and  Hogarth),  by 


BOSWELL  AND  WILKES  91 

which  his  demagogy  has  been  subtly  emphasised  in 
the  minds  and  memories  of  men,  might  then  have 
been  altered  by  the  work  of  a  greater  artist  than 
Hogarth,  and  John  Wilkes,  the  gay  and  fascinating 
John  Wilkes,  might  have  been  remembered  for 
something  other  than  the  evil  that  he  did. 


CHAPTER  V 

BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS :  LORD  AUCHINLECK 
SIR  ALEXANDER  DICK,  GENERAL  PAOLI 

BoswELL  was  one  of  those  unusual  young  per- 
sons who  deliberately  and  by  preference  seek  out 
the  companionship  of  men  twice  their  age.  His 
three  most  celebrated  friends,  Wilkes,  General 
Paoli,  and  Samuel  Johnson,  were,  respectively, 
thirteen,  fifteen,  and  thirty-one  years  older  than 
he.  His  two  favourite  friends  in  Scotland,  Sir 
David  Dalrymple  (Lord  Hailes)  and  Sir  Alexander 
Dick,  were,  respectively,  fourteen  and  thirty-seven 
years  older  than  he.  Association  with  younger 
men  he  found  vivacious  but  profitless ;  their  con- 
versation was  not  such  as  a  man  would  care  to 
record.  In  his  friendship  with  older  men  there  was 
always  an  attempt  to  gain,  as  it  were  at  second- 
hand, all  the  treasures  of  a  long  experience.  When 
the  atmosphere  became  too  rarefied,  he  could  al- 
ways sink  back  again  to  the  more  primitive  type 
of  comradeship.  In  one  of  his  early  letters  to  Sir 
David,  soon  after  the  acquaintance  with  Johnson 
had  begun,  Boswell  wrote  :  — 

I  must  own  to  you  that  I  have  for  some  time  past 
been  in  a  miserable  unsettled  way,  and  been  connected 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS  93 

with  people  of  shallow  parts,  altho'  agreeably  vivacious. 
But  I  find  a  flash  of  merriment  a  poor  equivalent  for 
internal  comfort.  I  thank  God  that  I  have  got  ac- 
quainted with  Mr.  Johnson.  He  has  done  me  infinite 
service.     He  has  assisted  me  to  obtain  peace  of  mind. 

We  should  all  do  well,  I  think,  to  rid  our  minds 
of  the  familiar  conception  of  Boswell  as  lost  in  an 
ecstasy  of  hero-worship  and  breathless  with  adula- 
tion ;  and  to  think  of  him,  rather,  as  getting  from 
his  association  with  his  elders  a  double  portion  of 
life,  enjoying  the  fruits  of  experience  without  sac- 
rificing the  avidity  of  youth.  He  was,  as  it  were, 
buying  experience  in  the  cheapest  market ;  and  to 
him  a  full  and  rich  experience  of  life  was  the 
summum  honum. 

Because  of  this  desire  for  a  varied  experience, 
he  was  ever,  when  with  older  men,  putting  himself 
in  an  attitude  not  so  much  of  worship  as  of  inquiry. 
What  did  the  actual  experience  of  life  have  to  say 
in  answer  to  the  thousand  questions  that  crowded 
his  eager,  restless  mind.^^  If  his  elders  had  at- 
tained serenity,  it  must  have  been  by  finding  some 
answer  to  these  thousand  disturbing  questions. 
If  not,  whence  rose  their  peace  of  mind.'*  Thus 
Boswell  habitually  teased  Johnson  on  the  subject 
of  the  freedom  of  the  will,  not,  I  think,  because  he 
conceived  of  him  as  a  greater  philosopher  than  any 
who  had  ever  touched  on  the  subject,  but  because. 


94  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

seeing  Johnson's  comparative  mastery  of  the  busi- 
ness of  living,  he  was  most  desirous  of  knowing 
what  solution  of  the  problem  had  appealed  to  him 
as  acceptable.  If  one  could  actually  extract  from 
association  with  his  elders  a  body  of  philosophy, 
tested  by  personal  experience  and  illustrated  by 
personal  anecdote,  what  an  education  it  would  be  ! 
He  has  himself  made  the  matter  clear,  in  his 
"Tour  to  Corsica":  — 

The  contemplation  of  such  a  character  [as  Paoli], 
really  existing,  was  of  more  service  to  me  than  all  I  had 
been  able  to  draw  from  books,  from  conversation,  or 
from  the  exertions  of  my  own  mind.  I  had  often 
enough  formed  the  idea  of  a  man  continually  such  as  I 
could  conceive  in  my  best  moments.  But  this  idea 
appeared  like  the  ideas  we  are  taught  in  the  schools  to 
form  of  things  which  may  exist,  but  do  not ;  of  seas  of 
milk  and  ships  of  amber.  But  I  saw  my  highest  idea 
realised  in  Paoli.  It  was  impossible  for  me,  speculate 
as  I  pleased,  to  have  a  little  opinion  of  human  nature  in 
him. 

For  this  reason,  again,  he  was  perpetually  seek- 
ing advice.  Indeed,  the  seeking  of  advice  became 
with  Boswell,  as  it  does  with  many  of  the  young, 
what  is  euphemistically  termed  a  "habit.'*  De- 
manding advice  of  one's  elders  is  not  infrequently 
merely  a  means  of  calling  attention  to  oneself. 
The  seeker  presents  himself,  alternately,  in  the 
actual  and  the  ideal  role,  and  his  self-love  is  flat- 


^*v 


BOSWrELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS  95 

tered.  If  he  succeeds  in  getting  his  advice,  he  has 
succeeded  in  making  himself  an  object  of  concern 
to  the  elder  generation.  It  is,  in  short,  a  harmless 
kind  of  vanity.  It  will  be  recalled  that  Boswell  par- 
doned the  envoy  at  Berlin  for  not  giving  the  advice 
which  he  wanted,  adding,  "To  enter  into  a  detail  of 
the  little  circumstances  which  compose  the  felicity 
of  another  is  what  a  man  of  any  genius  can  hardly 
submit  to."  Nevertheless,  it  was  such  a  compre- 
hension as  that  which  Boswell  demanded  and  was 
always  hoping  to  get.  On  his  own  side,  he  had 
much  to  offer  in  return.  Sheer  appreciation,  for 
example.  Is  not  age  for  ever  fretting  because 
youth  will  not  listen  to  its  counsels  ?  Here  was  a 
youth  eager  to  listen.  And  then  he  could  keep  age 
in  touch  with  a  younger  generation,  if  age  had 
broadmindedness  enough  to  let  him  upset  its  con- 
servatism and  introduce  colour  and  movement 
into  life.  One  might  tour  the  Seven  Provinces, 
or  the  farthest  Hebrides,  in  company  with  youth ; 
one  might  dine  with  Jack  Wilkes,  or  attempt  to 
scrape  acquaintance  with  the  King  of  Sweden. 
Life  is  not  over  at  sixty. 

It  is  clear  that  this  attitude  is  not  merely  filial, 
dutiful,  submissive.  It  is  not  the  posture  of  obedi- 
ent son  in  the  presence  of  revered  father.  In  a 
word,  it  is  not  hero-worship.  There  is  too  much 
in  it  of  give-and-take,  too  much  that  originates 


96  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

with  the  younger  party  to  the  contract.  Of  his 
own  father  Boswell  never  succeeded  in  making  a 
companion.  Perhaps  he  never  tried.  At  any 
rate,  long  before  we  know  them  with  any  degree 
of  intimacy,  they  had  begun  to  draw  apart ;  and  it 
is  hkely  that  the  dissimilarity  of  their  natures  had 
prevented  them,  from  the  beginning,  from  achiev- 
ing any  genuine  intimacy  or  comradeship.  Bos- 
well always  respected  Lord  Auchinleck,  and  in 
those  rare  moments  when  his  father  gave  him 
plenty  of  rein,  he  loved  him ;  but  in  general  the 
father  was  dour.  He  was  totally  unfitted  to  under- 
stand or  make  allowance  for  the  tastes  and  habits 
of  his  son  James.  By  what  jest  of  fate  had  he, 
the  hard-headed,  sharp-tongued,  contentious  Cal- 
vinist  judge,  begotten  this  runagate.'^  By  what 
methods  could  he  hope  to  sober  the  creature  and 
fasten  his  ever  wayward  thoughts  on  the  Scots  law, 
so  that  he  might  rise  in  time  to  the  bench,  as  his 
father  had  done,  and  reign  worthily  over  Auchin- 
leck.'^ But  it  was  of  no  use.  "Jamie"  had  gone 
"clean  gyte."  How  could  the  thrifty  father  be 
expected  to  realise  that  his  son's  love  of  social  life 
would  ever  be  of  more  worth  to  the  world  than  the 
earnest  application  to  duty  of  the  most  industrious 
apprentice  that  ever  lived  ? 

As  for  "Jamie,"  his  instinctive  affection  was 
gradually  extinguished  by  the  father's  upbraiding. 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS  97 

Constant  fretting  at  the  young  will  in  time  wear 
away  all  affection ;  confidence  and  mutual  respect 
disappear  long  before.  *'My  lord,"  said  the  son, 
"was  solid  and  composed,  Boswell  was  light  and 
restless."  The  younger  man  felt  that  he  was 
treated  like  a  boy  (as,  no  doubt,  he  was) ;  and  even 
after  he  was  married  and  independent,  he  was  fain 
to  consume  a  large  amount  of  strong  beer  in  order 
to  get  through  the  ordeal  of  a  visit  in  his  father's 
home  —  all  of  which  could  not  have  tended  to 
allay  the  ever-rising  hostility  between  them. 

They  differed  sharply  over  the  entail  of  the 
estate  of  Auchinleck,  Boswell  wishing  to  confine 
the  succession  to  the  male  heirs.  The  question 
was  of  no  practical  importance,  for  there  was  no 
lack  of  male  heirs ;  but  it  none  the  less  increased  the 
friction  between  them.  They  were  better  off  when 
they  were  far  apart.  A  visit  to  London  meant  to 
Boswell,  among  other  things,  escape  from  a  carping 
father. 

And  yet  the  father  made  a  distinct  appeal  to  the 
son.  He  had  lost  his  son's  heart,  but  fascinated 
his  creative  imagination.  Boswell  never  ceased 
to  realise  that  Lord  Auchinleck  was  remarkably 
good  "material."  To  adopt  the  phraseology  of 
a  later  century,  the  old  gentleman  "belonged  in  a 
novel."  His  keen  wits  and  his  strong  national 
prejudices  flowered  naturally  into  racy  humour; 


98  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

he  was  chock-full  of  anecdote;  although  a  judge 
and  an  aristocrat,  he  had  the  vivid  speech  and  the 
shrewd  observation  of  a  man  who  has  learned  from 
Nature  and  not  from  books.  But  Lord  Auchin- 
leck,  though  a  highly-educated  man  and  a  devoted, 
if  not  pedantic,  student  of  the  classics,  had  never 
lost  his  mother  wit.  One  thing  at  least  James  Bos- 
well  inherited  from  his  father,  his  love  of  a  good 
story.  He  filled  the  pages  of  his  Commonplace 
Book  with  his  father's  vivacious  anecdotes,  and  in 
so  doing  produced  the  best  possible  portrait  of 
him.  It  is  odd  that  such  perfect  artistic  sympathy 
should  exhibit  itself  after  the  decay  of  all  filial 
devotion.     It  is  the  triumph  of  art  over  discord. 

Of  certain  of  James's  associates  the  old  gentle- 
man did  not  disapprove.  He  liked  Sir  David,  and 
listened  to  his  intercessions  on  the  son's  behalf. 
He  approved  of  Sir  Alexander  Dick.  Neither  of 
these  gentlemen  would  take  James  far  from  home 
or  distract  his  attention  from  the  charms  of  the 
Scots  law.  Sir  Alexander,  in  particular,  was  a 
safe  associate.  He  was,  to  be  sure,  thirty-seven 
years  older  than  James,  but  James  had  a  fondness 
for  older  men,  and  a  "way"  with  them,  if  only 
they  would  give  him  a  chance. 

Sir  Alexander  was  now  the  head  of  the  Dick 
family  and  residing  at  Prestonfield,  or  Priestfield 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS  99 

Parks,  the  family  estate  at  the  foot  of  Arthur's 
Seat,  near  Edinburgh.  He  was  a  man  of  classical 
learning,  who  liked  to  fancy  that  there  was  some- 
thing Horatian  in  his  peaceful  retirement  into  rural 
life.  He  wrote  verses  and  cultivated  the  soil,  in 
imitation  of  Vergil's  "Georgics,"  and  threw  open 
his  hospitable  doors  to  all  comers.  He  told  Boswell 
that  he  remembered  to  have  had  a  thousand  people 
in  a  year  to  dine  at  his  house.  He  was  a  gracious 
gentleman,  who  loved  men  of  genius,  and  was  glad 
to  cultivate  the  acquaintance  of  any  who  might  be 
near  Edinburgh.  Allan  Ramsay  and  David  Hume 
were  his  intimate  friends ;  the  Bishop  of  London, 
Alexander  Pope,  and  Benjamin  Franklin  were 
among  his  acquaintances.  Franklin,  with  his  son, 
visited  Prestonfield,  probably  in  the  year  1759, 
lingered  there  some  days,  and  on  his  return  to  Eng- 
land, wrote  a  poem,  beginning,  "Joys  of  Preston- 
field, adieu,"  in  which  he  praised  the  "beds  that 
never  bugs  molest."  Sir  Alexander's  table  fairly 
groaned  with  food.  He  once  wrote  in  his  diary :  ^ 
"Willie's  birthday.  Mr.  James  Boswell  and  the 
India  Mr.  Boswell,  Mrs.  Young,  etc.,  etc.,  all  dined 
here,  and  Mr.  Mercer,  and  danced.  We  had  a  fine 
piece  of  boiled  beef  and  greens,  a  large  turkey,  some 
fine  chickens,  250  fine  asparagus  from  my  hot  bed, 

^January  7,  1777.    Lady  Forbes's  Curiosities  of  a  Scots 
Charia  Chest,  p.  257. 


100  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

and  a  fine  pig,  —  all  from  the  farm  and  wine  from 
the  farm  (i.e.,  curran  and  gooseberry)  and  Greek 
from  the  Consul  of  Leghorn,  and  claret  and  port 
and  punch  and  a  fine  Parmesan  cheese,  also  from 
Leghorn."  It  is  easy  to  understand  why  Boswell 
found  in  Prestonfield  the  best  possible  substitute 
for  the  social  joys  of  London. 

When  Boswell  went  to  Italy  in  the  spring  of 
1765,  Sir  Alexander  interested  himself  greatly  in 
the  trip.  He  had  himself  travelled  in  Holland  and 
Italy  as  a  young  man,  and  still  had  old  acquaint- 
ances there  who  could  be  of  service  to  Boswell.  On 
Christmas  Eve,  1764,  Boswell  wrote  to  him  from 
Geneva  a  letter  asking  for  introductions  to  Italian 
men  of  learning :  — 

My  plan  [he  wrote]  is  to  employ  my  whole  time  in 
the  study  of  antiquitys  and  the  fine  arts,  for  which  I 
shall  have  such  noble  opportunitys  that  I  hope  to  form 
a  taste  which  may  contribute  to  my  happiness  as  long 
as  I  live.  ...  I  know  no  man  more  capable  and  who 
will  be  more  ready  to  assist  me  than  you,  Sir. 

The  letter  is  particularly  valuable  because  in  it 
Boswell  announces  the  route  which  he  intends  to 
follow  through  Italy.  His  plan  was  to  cross  from 
Milan  to  Venice,  then  to  visit  Rome  and  Naples, 
and  afterwards  to  go  to  Florence  and  Genoa.  As 
a  matter  of  fact,  he  seems  to  have  postponed  the 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        101 

visit  to  Venice  till  after  he  had  been  to  Rome  and 
Naples  —  a  change  of  plan  which  was  undoubtedly 
due  to  a  desire  to  keep  close  to  Wilkes,  whom  he 
had  met  in  Turin.  However,  when  this  letter  was 
written,  Wilkes  was  not  yet  on  the  horizon;  Bos- 
well  was  still  cultivating  Rousseau,  but  he  was 
anxious  to  provide  for  the  associations  of  the  fu- 
ture. "You  will  oblige  me  greatly,"  he  continues, 
*'if  you  will  recommend  me  as  your  friend  to  some 
learned  and  ingenious  men  from  whom  I  may  re- 
ceive instruction,  and  may  catch  the  exquisite 
enthusiasm  of  true  taste.  When  I  come  home  to 
Scotland,  I  shall  endeavour  to  make  you  some  re- 
turn by  my  conversation  at  your  classical  villa  of 
Prestonfield." 

Sir  Alexander  did  as  he  was  requested,  and  gave 
Boswell  an  introduction  to  Camillo  Paderni,  the 
Italian  scholar  and  antiquary,  who  was  among  the 
earliest  explorers  of  Herculaneum,  and  was  now  in 
charge  of  all  the  antiquities  unearthed  in  the  dis- 
trict. Under  his  personal  escort,  Boswell  visited 
the  ruins.  After  his  return  to  Rome  in  May,  he 
sent  the  following  description  of  the  visit  to  Sir 
Alexander :  — 

Camillo  shewed  me  the  rich  store  of  antiquitys  which 
have  been  found  at  Herculaneum.  He  has  arranged 
them  with  great  judgment  and  taste.  They  fully  an- 
swered my  expectations.     I  had  not  only  an  oppor- 


102  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

tunity  of  admiring  the  noble  remains  of  sculptm'e  and 
painting,  but  viewed  with  curious  satisfaction  the  im- 
mense variety  of  every  thing  for  the  use  of  life  which, 
as  you  well  say,  fairly  brings  back  old  time,  as  it  were, 
face  to  face.  One  sees  by  this  collection  how  far  the 
ancients  had  carried  every  article  of  convenience,  and 
how  very  similar  their  ordinary  course  of  living  has 
been  to  that  of  modern  times.  I  shall  not  pretend  to 
give  you  a  detail  of  what  I  saw  at  Herculaneum,  or  to 
enter  into  a  discussion  of  any  particulars  till  I  have  the 
pleasure  of  being  with  you,  when  we  can  talk  it  over 
fully.  I  need  not  tell  you  how  much  I  was  charmed 
with  the  delightfull  situation  of  Naples  and  with  its 
classical  environs.  I  past  three  weeks  there,  and  em- 
ployed my  time  to  very  good  purpose.  Upon  my 
return  to  Rome,  I  engaged  an  antiquary,  and  went 
through  what  is  called  a  course  of  antiquitys,  which 
includes  also  the  pictures.  I  have  viewed  the  noble 
remains  of  Roman  grandeur  with  venerable  enthusiasm, 
and  have  seen  most  of  the  best  churches  and  palaces 
in  Rome.  I  regret,  indeed,  that  my  time  here  is  so 
short,  that  I  can  have  little  more  than  the  immediate 
pleasiu'e  of  seeing  the  many  fine  things.  To  study 
them  and  to  form  a  correct  taste  would  keep  me  from 
home  much  longer  than  my  father's  inclination  and  my 
serious  dutys  can  allow.  I  have  as  much  feeling  as  any 
man,  and  from  the  remembrance  of  the  treasures  of 
Italy,  joined  to  what  I  have  yet  to  see,  I  doubt  not  to 
retain  so  much  taste  as  never  to  be  idle  for  want  of 
elegant  occupation.  I  must  own  I  have  been  a  little 
dissappointed  in  Italy.  You  know  what  divine  ideas 
we  form  of  it,  and  you  know  that  it  does  not  come  up 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        103 

to  them  in  several  respects.     However,  I  shall  certainly 
say,  meminisse  juvabit. 

This  is,  I  think,  the  longest  description  which 
Boswell  ever  wrote  of  those  "sights"  which  are 
commonly  supposed  to  absorb  all  the  attention 
of  tourists;  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  the  whole 
account  was  written  with  a  view  to  pleasing  Sir 
Alexander  (whose  classical  enthusiasm  was  great) 
rather  than  to  expressing  actual  preferences.  "I 
must  own  I  have  been  a  little  dissappointed  in 
Italy."  At  the  moment  when  Boswell  wrote  that 
sentence,  he  was  out  of  touch  with  the  Great.  He 
had  left  Wilkes  a  month  before  in  Naples.  Months 
were  yet  to  pass  before  he  met  Paoli.  He  was  com- 
pelled to  content  himself  with  the  companionship 
of  young  Lord  Mountstuart  (afterwards  fourth 
Earl  of  Bute),  who  was  making  the  Grand  Tour  in 
company  with  a  tutor.  Boswell  and  he  travelled 
together  for  a  time,  journeying  northwards  from 
Rome.^  There  was  genuine  affection  between  the 
two  of  them,  but  nevertheless  Lord  Mountstuart 
was  young  —  younger,  indeed,  by  four  years  — 
and  Boswell  felt  the  difference  in  the  quality  of  the 
association.  The  viscount  showed  him  the  letters 
of  his  father,  Lord  Bute,  and  Boswell  made  what  he 
could  out  of  this  association  at  second-hand.     He 

*  When,  a  year  or  so  later,  Boswell  was  admitted  to  the  bar, 
he  dedicated  his  thesis  for  admission  to  the  young  viscount. 


104  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

had,  at  any  rate,  the  pleasure  of  writing  to  Wilkes 
that  that  demagogue  had  been  unfair  to  Lord  Bute. 
It  was  probably  in  Rome  that  Boswell  met  a 
gentleman  by  the  name  of  John  Dick,  cousin  to 
Sir  Alexander,  who  was  the  British  Consul  at  Leg- 
horn. In  the  course  of  discussing  with  him  his 
relation  to  Sir  Alexander,  Boswell  stumbled  upon  a 
most  interesting  discovery,  fraught  with  pleasant 
consequences  for  all  concerned.  This  was  no  less 
than  the  fact  that  Consul  Dick  was  a  baronet  in 
his  own  right  —  a  fact  of  which  he  had  remained 
hitherto  in  complete  ignorance.  But  Boswell,  who 
had  interested  himself  in  Sir  Alexander  Dick  as  a 
possible  subject  for  a  biography,  was  acquainted 
with  the  details  of  the  family  history,  and  was 
therefore  able  to  tell  Consul  Dick  facts  about  his 
own  descent  of  which  he  himself  was  ignorant. 
The  founder  of  the  line  had  been  a  Sir  William 
Dick,  the  first  baronet,  who  had  advanced  money 
to  King  Charles  I,  had  become  impoverished  dur- 
ing the  Civil  Wars,  and  had  died  bankrupt.  His 
sons  scattered,  and  trace  of  the  male  heir  was  lost, 
the  title  descending  through  a  daughter,  to  whom 
a  new  patent  of  baronetcy  was  issued,  with  re- 
mainder to  her  heirs  male.  Of  this  title  Sir  Alex- 
ander Dick  was  now  the  heir.  But  the  direct  male 
descendant  of  the  first  Sir  William  was  the  consul. 
This  discovery  Boswell  communicated,  not  only  to 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        105 

Consul  Dick,  but,  later,  to  Sir  Alexander  Dick, 
who  had  among  the  family  papers,  as  Boswell  knew, 
information  regarding  the  first  baronet. 

This  whole  incident  delighted  the  feudal  soul  of 
our  hero,  and  on  his  return  to  Scotland  he  at  once 
busied  himself  to  prove  the  succession  which  he 
had  discovered.  It  was  a  long  process ;  but  at 
last,  in  March,  1768,  John  Dick  was  "served  heir" 
to  his  great-great-grandfather,  the  first  baronet, 
and  Boswell  carried  the  proofs  up  to  London,  to- 
gether with  a  retouTy  or  oflScial  extract  of  the  verdict 
of  the  jury  who  heard  the  proof.  Boswell's  ac- 
count of  the  incident,  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Alexander, 
is  as  follows :  — 

On  my  arrival  in  London.  I  put  up  at  the  Star  and 
Garter  in  Bond  Street,  and  who  do  you  think  happened 
to  be  in  that  very  house,  at  a  club,  but  our  excellent 
friend,  the  Consul.'^  I  went  to  him.  He  immediately 
came  to  me.  We  embraced,  and  I  told  him  in  a  hurry 
all  the  principal  circumstances  of  what  had  been  done 
in  Scotland.  In  the  evening  I  waited  upon  him  to 
supper  and  was  rejoiced  at  seeing  again  La  Signora 
Consolessa  ^  of  whom  you  have  heard  so  much,  and  have 
formed  a  very  just  idea. 

I  was  a  great  man,  for  I  came  laden  with  valuable 
things.  I  produced  the  retour,  which  I  read  in  English, 
with  an  audible  voice.  I  then  displayed  the  magnifi- 
cent Burgess  ticket,  which  was  very  much  admired,  and 

^  Lady  Dick. 


106  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

I  give  you  my  word  that  my  heart  beat  with  real  glad- 
ness as  I  read  it  also  aloud.  I  next  displayed  the  por- 
trait of  the  venerable  Sir  William,  and  then  the  worthy 
baronet's  letter  made  the  bonne  bouche.  You  may 
figure  me  quite  at  home,  and  in  high  spirits  investing 
your  cousins  with  their  titles!  "Sir  John  Dick,  my 
service  to  you ;  Lady  Dick,  I  have  the  honour  to  drink 
your  Ladyship's  good  health."  So  it  went,  and  I  know 
not  when  I  was  happier.  .  .  . 

What  do  you  think  of  my  Lady  Dick's  bounty  to  me  ? 
She  has  this  morning  made  me  a  present  of  the  most 
elegant  sword  I  ever  saw  —  steel,  richly  carved  and 
embossed,  and  gilt;  in  short,  quite  the  princely  sword 
for  the  Laird  of  Auchinleck.  It  will  delight  you  to  see 
it  when  we  meet.     I  will  come  and  strut  at  Prestonfield. 

The  story  is  continued  in  the  same  tone,  a  week 
later :  — 

I  think  now  our  worthy  friend  will  be  completely 
fixed  in  his  dignity.  He  was  presented  to  the  King  as 
knight  .  .  .  and  both  he  and  Lady  Dick  have  kist  hands, 
and  are  universally  acknowledged.  I  never  rested  until 
I  had  the  brass  plate  on  his  door  changed  and  orna- 
mented with  "Sir  John  Dick." 

Boswell's  exertions  on  behalf  of  Sir  John  not 
only  brought  him  a  new  friend,  but  also  deepened 
the  affection  between  him  and  Sir  Alexander,  who 
now  had  a  new  realisation  of  his  abilities.  The 
proposal  to  "Boswellise"  Sir  Alexander  was  for  a 
time  taken  very  seriously,  both  by  the  biographer 


BOS\^^LL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        107 

and  the  subject.  In  1777,  Sir  Alexander  wrote  in 
his  diary:  "Last  week  Mr.  James  Boswell,  my 
friend,  expressed  a  desire  to  make  a  biographical 
account  of  my  life  to  my  74th  year.  ...  I  looked 
over  many  jottings  and  [records]  of  past  times,  and 
we  had  some  droll  interviews,  and  it  becomes,  he 
says,  very  interesting."  Sir  Alexander  turned  over 
a  bundle  of  these  papers  to  Boswell,  who  appears 
actually  to  have  begun  the  composition  of  the 
work,  for,  in  October,  1778,  he  refers  definitely  to 
the  existence  of  a  "biography."  In  a  letter  of  this 
date,  Boswell,  after  commending  Sir  Alexander  for 
the  account  which  he  has  given  of  the  "public  exer- 
tions" of  his  life,  now  demands  a  more  intimate 
kind  of  information. 

Mark  your  agreeable  freinds  with  whom  you  have 
corresponded,  and  refer  to  the  treasure  of  letters  which 
I  hope  to  assist  in  arranging.  I  could  wish,  too,  that 
you  would  mark  your  studies,  and  as  far  as  you  please 
your  opinions  in  religion  and  politicks.  I  value  very 
highly  the  confidence  you  put  in  me.  .  .  .  Your  opin- 
ions, I  suppose,  you  will  mark  with  your  own  hand. 
For  though  I  beleive  them  to  be  truly  pious,  yet  there 
may  be  a  liherality  in  them  which  may  be  misunder- 
stood by  your  secretary.  You  are  an  elder,  and,  I 
trust,  a  brother  Christian. 

It  would  seem,  from  this  extract,  as  if  Boswell, 
having  wearied  of  his  biographical  task,  had  now 


108  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

turned  it  over  to  Sir  Alexander  to  complete,  with 
the  assistance  of  his  daughter  and  secretary.  Miss 
Jessy  Dick.  If  such  be  the  case,  there  is  nothing 
surprising  in  it,  for  Boswell,  by  this  time  (1778), 
was  already  absorbed  in  his  Johnsonian  plans,  and 
had  no  time  for  lesser  game. 

But  there  was  no  interruption  of  the  pleasant 
relations  with  Sir  Alexander  Dick.  He  lived  to  the 
advanced  age  of  eighty-two.  He  had  known  Bos- 
well from  boyhood,  and  throughout  their  long 
association  there  had  never  occurred,  so  far  as  we 
know,  anything  to  spoil  the  pleasure  and  mu- 
tual respect  which  they  felt  for  each  other. 
There  was  nothing  startling  or  romantic  in  their 
friendship,  for  it  was  of  the  ordinary,  enduring 
kind  which,  by  reason  of  its  very  simplicity,  is  all 
the  more  valuable  to  us  as  revealing  a  side  of  Bos- 
well's  character  which  is  generally  neglected. 

A  more  distinguished  but  no  less  devoted  friend 
than  Sir  Alexander  was  Pasquale  Paoli,  the  great 
Corsican  patriot.  In  his  relations  with  Paoli  there 
mingled  an  element  of  romantic  adventure  which 
was  entirely  lacking  in  the  other  friendships  of 
Boswell's  life.  For  Paoli  he  felt  a  reverence  that 
he  did  not  display  even  toward  Johnson,  since  he 
saw  in  his  career — as  indeed  did  all  Europe — an 
attempt  to  vindicate  the  essential  dignity  of  man- 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        109 

kind.  Out  of  a  group  of  half -barbarous  islanders 
he  had  undertaken  to  make  a  nation  imbued  with 
the  sacred  principles  of  liberty  and  equality.  He 
was  a  modern  ^Eneas.  The  eyes  of  "republicans" 
everywhere  were  turned  towards  Paoli.  The  name 
of  a  flourishing  town  in  Pennsylvania  perpetuates 
the  interest  which  was  felt  in  Paoli  and  the  Cor- 
sicans  by  the  people  of  America.  Rousseau  was  to 
be  the  law-giver  of  the  new  nation.  "Come  back 
twenty  or  thirty  years  hence,"  said  Paoli  to  Bos- 
well,  "and  we'll  shew  you  arts  and  sciences."  Ars 
long  a. 

In  young,  aspiring,  or  liberty-loving  nations 
Boswell  was  always  interested.  He  was,  from  the 
first,  an  American  sympathiser.  He  had  strange 
notions  about  the  rights  of  Ireland.  Although  a 
Lowlander,  he  had  a  passionate  devotion  to  the 
clannish  life  of  the  Highlands,  and  loved  to  assume 
the  style  of  an  "old  lord  of  Scotland."  He  there- 
fore became  deeply  interested  in  the  Corsicans,  of 
whom  he  had  heard  much  from  the  Earl  Marischal 
and  from  Rousseau.  He  determined  to  go  and  see 
for  himself  the  heroic  nation  in  the  infant  stages 
of  its  history,  and  to  know  and  converse  with  this 
maker  of  nations.  It  was  easy  to  persuade  the 
emotional  Rousseau  to  give  him  the  necessary  in- 
troduction to  Paoli.  The  difficult  thing  was  to 
escape  being  shot  for  a  spy. 


110  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

There  exist  two  accounts  of  Boswell's  first 
meeting  with  PaoH,  which  are  so  neatly  supple- 
mentary that  it  seems  strange  that  they  should 
never  before  have  been  set  down  side  by  side,  for 
it  is  seldom  that  so  interesting  a  meeting  has 
been  described  by  both  the  "principals."  Boswell 
himself  wrote  the  following  account  of  it  in  his 
"Tour  to  Corsica"  :  — 

He  asked  me  what  were  my  commands  for  him.  I 
presented  him  a  letter  from  Count  Rivarola,^  and  when 
he  had  read  it,  I  shewed  him  my  letter  from  Rousseau. 
He  was  polite,  but  very  reserved.  I  had  stood  in  the 
presence  of  many  a  prince,  but  I  never  had  such  a  trial 
as  in  the  presence  of  Paoli.  I  have  already  said  that 
he  is  a  great  physiognomist.  In  consequence  of  his 
being  in  continual  danger  from  treachery  and  assassina- 
tion, he  has  formed  a  habit  of  studiously  observing 
every  new  face.  For  ten  minutes  we  walked  backwards 
and  forwards  through  the  room,  hardly  saying  a  word, 
while  he  looked  at  me,  with  a  steadfast,  keen,  and  pene- 
trating eye,  as  if  he  searched  my  very  soul. 

This  interview  was  for  a  while  very  severe  upon  me. 
I  was  much  relieved  when  his  reserve  wore  off,  and  he 
began  to  speak  more.  I  then  ventured  to  address  him 
with  this  compliment  to  the  Corsicans,  "Sir,  I  am  upon 
my  travels,  and  have  lately  visited  Rome.  I  am  come 
from  seeing  the  ruins  of  one  brave  and  free  people :  I 
now  see  the  rise  of  another." 

He  received  my  compliment  very  graciously. 

^  The  Sardinian  Consul  at  Leghorn. 


Bozzy 


F^ncrax  ins:  h\  V.  IIoll,  from  a  ski'tcli  li\  Sir  llioiiias  Law  ivnce 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        111 

Some  years  later  the  incident  was  recalled  by 
Paoli  when  he  was  visiting  the  Thrales  at  Streat- 
ham,  and  he  gave  Fanny  Burney  the  following 
account,  which  she  records  in  her  "Diary"  :  — 

"He  came,"  he  said,  "to  my  country,  and  he  fetched 
me  some  letter  of  recommending  him ;  but  I  was  of  the 
belief  he  might  be  an  impostor  and  an  espy ;  for  I  look 
away  from  him,  and  in  a  moment  I  look  to  him  again, 
and  I  behold  his  tablets.  Oh !  he  was  to  the  work  of 
writing  down  all  I  say !  Indeed ,  I  was  angry.  But 
soon  I  discover  he  was  no  impostor  and  no  espy ;  and  I 
only  find  I  was  myself  the  monster  he  had  come  to  dis- 
cern. Oh,  [Boswell]  is  a  very  good  man ;  I  love  him 
indeed ;  so  cheerful !  so  gay !  so  pleasant !  but  at  the 
first,  oh  !  I  was  indeed  angry." 

The  intimacy  which  grew  up  between  the  two 
men  was  destined,  before  many  years  had  passed, 
to  be  renewed.  "Remember  that  I  am  your 
friend,  and  write  to  me,"  Paoli  had  said  to  Boswell 
as  he  left  him ;  but  he  could  hardly  have  con- 
ceived how  deep  and  true  that  friendship  was  to 
become,  or  how  serviceable  to  him  and  the  cause 
which  he  represented  the  young  Scotsman  might 
be.  The  "Tour  to  Corsica,"  to  which  Boswell  add- 
ed as  a  supplementary  title,  "Memoirs  of  Paoli," 
has  been  a  delightful  book  to  generations  of  readers, 
but  its  political  significance  and  its  practical  value 
as  Corsican  "propaganda"  have  been  forgotten. 


112  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Boswell  was  almost  the  first  British  visitor  to  the 
island.  "Tell  them  what  you  have  seen  here," 
Paoli  said,  when  Boswell  asked  him  what  service 
he  could  render  the  cause  after  returning  to  Eng- 
land. "They  will  be  curious  to  ask  you.  A  man 
come  from  Corsica  will  be  like  a  man  come  from  the 
Antipodes."     And  so  indeed  he  was. 

Sir  George  Otto  Trevelyan,  whose  authority  no 
one  is  likely  to  impugn,  after  remarking  that  Bos- 
well wrote  "  what  Is  still  by  far  the  best  account  of 
the  island  that  has  ever  yet  been  published,"  goes 
on  to  speak  of  his  Influence  in  the  following  way :  — 

How  real  was  the  effect  produced  by  Boswell's  narra- 
tive upon  the  opinion  of  his  countrymen  may  be 
gathered  from  the  unwilling  testimony  of  those  who 
regretted  Its  Influence,  and  thought  little  of  Its  author. 
"Foolish  as  we  are,"  wrote  Lord  Holland,  "we  cannot 
be  so  foolish  as  to  go  to  war  because  Mr.  Boswell  has 
been  In  Corsica ;  and  yet,  believe  me,  no  better  reason 
can  be  given  for  siding  with  the  vile  inhabitants  of  one 
of  the  vilest  Islands  of  the  world,  who  are  not  less  free 
than  all  the  rest  of  their  neighbours,  and  whose  island 
will  enable  the  French  to  do  no  more  harm  than  they 
may  do  us  at  any  time  from  Toulon."  Horace  Walpole 
credited  Boswell  with  having  procured  PaoU  his  pen- 
sion of  a  thousand  a  year  from  the  British  Exchequer.* 

Besides  publishing  the  "Tour,"  in  which  the 
first  genuine  information  about  the  personality  of 

*  Early  History  of  Charles  James  Fox,  p.  135. 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        113 

Paoli  was  given  to  the  world,  Boswell  conceived 
the  plan  of  soliciting  articles  on  Corsica  from  his 
friends  and  acquaintances,  and  issuing  a  volume 
on  behalf  of  the  islanders.  "British  Essays  in 
favour  of  the  Brave  Corsicans"  appeared  in  1769, 
the  very  year  of  Paoli 's  defeat  by  the  French,  to 
whom  the  Genoese  had  finally  sold  the  storm-vexed 
island.  In  September  of  this  year,  Paoli  landed 
in  England.  Walpole,  who  hated  Paoli  and  Bos- 
well (and,  indeed,  almost  everyone  else),  wrote  in 
his  "Memoirs  of  the  Reign  of  George  III,"  " Paoli 's 
character  had  been  so  advantageously  exaggerated 
by  Mr.  Boswell's  enthusiastic  and  entertaining 
account  of  him  that  the  Opposition  were  ready  to 
incorporate  him  in  the  list  of  popular  tribunes." 
In  that  same  category  Walpole,  too,  had  been  will- 
ing to  place  him  until  he  had  the  audacity  to  fight 
against  the  French.  From  that  time  on  he  became 
to  Walpole  a  contemptible  person,  worthy  of  no 
better  epithets  than  an  "unheroic  fugitive"  and  a 
"dirty    fellow." 

Paoli's  reception  in  England,  whither  he  fled 
after  his  defeat,  was,  however,  flattering  in  the 
extreme.  Boswell's  account  of  it  (here  printed  for 
the  first  time)  is  found  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Alexander 
Dick :  — 

Our  illustrious  chief  has  been  received  here  with  the 
greatest  honour.     The  King  desired  to  see  him  pri- 


BRITISH     ESSAYS 

IN    FAVOUR    OF    THE 

Brave  Corsicans: 

BY 

SEVERAL     HANDS. 

COLLECTED   and   PUBLISHED 

By   JAMES   BOSWELL,  Esq,: 


In  medium  mors  omnis  ablt,  pent  obruta  virtus. 
Nos  in  confpicua  foclis,  hoftique  carina 
Conftituere  Dei,     Praebebunt  aEquora  teftes, 
Prxbebunt  terrac^  fummis  dabit  infula  faxis. 

LUCAK. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  Edward  and  Charles  Dilly^ 

in  the  poultry. 

mdcclxix. 


BOSWELL  AND  HIS  ELDERS        115 

vately  at  the  Queen's  palace,  where  he  went  accordingly, 
and  was  a  long  time  alone  with  his  Majesty,  who  ex- 
pressed himself  in  the  most  agreable  manner  as  to 
Corsica. 

I  must  tell  you  an  anecdote  which  you  will  like. 
The  King  said,  "I  have  read  Boswell's  book,  which  is 
well  written  [scritto  con  spirito].  May  I  depend  upon 
it  as  an  authentic  account.''"  The  General  answered, 
"Your  Majesty  may  be  assured  that  every  thing  in 
that  book  is  true,  except  the  compliments  which  Mr. 
Boswell  has  been  pleased  to  pay  to  his  friend." 

As  for  the  later  relations  of  Boswell  and  Paoli, 
are  they  not  written  in  the  "Life  of  Johnson".'^ 
If  there  be  truth  in  that  record,  Paoli's  affection 
for  his  eccentric  young  friend  never  wavered;  it 
was  apparently  never  necessary  for  Boswell  to 
humour  Paoli,  and  there  were  no  storms  of  passion 
to  endure,  such  as  mark  the  more  famous  associa- 
tion of  Boswell's  life.  For  many  years  —  until, 
indeed,  Boswell  came  to  reside  in  London  in  1786 
—  General  Paoli's  house  in  South  Audley  Street 
was  his  headquarters  during  his  London  holiday. 
And  who  can  doubt  that,  despite  repeated  fits  of 
gloom,  his  presence  there  was  grateful ;  for  he  came 
always  as  a  harbinger  of  social  joys,  a  bringer  of 
new  things,  a  perpetual  enemy  of  inertia  and  same- 
ness. To  the  sons  and  daughters  of  respectability 
his  presence  was  no  doubt  an  offence;  but  to  his 
friends,  who  had  learned  to  love  him  for  his  very 


116  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

oddities,  his  presence  was  a  promise  of  gaiety  and 
social  converse,  the  very  "nights  and  suppers  of 
the  gods"  once  more,  brightening  the  workaday 
world. 


CHAPTER  VI 

IN  LOVE 

Perhaps  in  Vanity  Fair  there  are  no  better  satires  than 
letters  .  .  .  Vows,  love,  promises,  confidences,  gratitude, 
how  queerly  they  read  after  a  while !  There  ought  to  be  a 
law  in  Vanity  Fair  ordering  the  destruction  of  every  written 
document  (except  receipted  tradesmen's  bills)  after  a  certain 
brief  and  proper  interval.  —  Thackeray. 

In  all  the  varied  business  of  living  there  is  per- 
haps no  matter  which  must  be  conducted  more 
strictly  according  to  rule  and  precedent  than  the 
business  of  wooing  a  wife.  There  is  a  recognised 
way  of  getting  the  thing  accomplished  (based,  no 
doubt,  on  the  instinct  and  experience  of  the  race), 
and  brave  is  the  man  who  dares  to  adopt  any 
other.  "All  the  world  loves  a  lover"  —  if  he 
observes  the  conventions  of  the  game;  but  if  he 
does  not,  the  world  pours  out  upon  the  unfor- 
tunate creature  the  contempt  which  it  always  feels 
for  those  who  do  not  accept  its  own  methods. 

One  of  these  is  furtiveness.  There  must  be 
something  clandestine  about  the  first  stages,  if 
not  all  stages,  of  the  process.  Courtship  is  a  kind 
of  theft,  and  the  amorous  pair  continue  the  policy 
of  stealth  long  after  their  secret  is  known  to  the 
world.     Indeed,  the  public  demands  it.     If  you 


118  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

feel  the  impulse  to  tell  the  story  of  your  passion  to 
a  friend  at  Piccadilly  Circus,  you  must  refrain, 
even  though  he  be  the  friend  of  your  bosom.  If 
you  desire  to  print  the  verses  which  you  have  ad- 
dressed to  the  lady  of  your  choice,  you  must  re- 
mind yourself  that  it  is  not  done.  Let  the  verses 
be  discovered  in  the  secret  drawer  of  the  escritoire 
after  your  death,  and  the  public  will  be  glad  to 
read  them. 

Again,  you  must  not  seek  advice.  You  may 
have  the  counsels  of  the  world  on  every  subject 
but  this ;  but  unless  you  are  willing  to  be  dubbed 
a  fool,  you  must  go  unaided  to  meet  this  most 
momentous  issue  of  life.  Your  friends,  to  be  sure, 
will  be  the  first  to  criticise  you  for  not  having  some- 
how divined  (and  followed)  the  advice  which  they 
could  not  and  would  not  give ;  but  to  this  criticism 
you  must  be  deaf.  It  is  true  that,  if  you  care  at 
all  for  your  friends,  the  introduction  of  a  new  per- 
son into  your  old  relationships  may  have  conse- 
quences of  the  gravest  importance;  but  to  all 
these  you  must  be  blind. 

Finally,  you  must  be  sure  of  yourself:  you  are 
not  permitted  to  be  in  doubt  whether  or  not  the 
emotions  you  are  experiencing  may  be  true  love  or 
not.  You  may  be  wrong,  but  you  must  not  doubt. 
If  you  finally  wake  to  the  realisation  that  you  are, 
and  have  been,  wrong,  you  may  try  again;  but 


IN  LOVE  119 

again  you  are  not  permitted  to  waver.  You  may 
perhaps  be  of  so  happy  a  temperament  that  a  thou- 
sand ladies  seem  to  you  worthy  of  your  love  and 
capable  of  making  you  happy ;  but  this  view  you 
must  conceal  as  a  heresy.  The  prize  which  you 
draw  must  make  all  other  drawings  seem  blank; 
you  must  not  scan  and  compare  the  blessings  of 
other  men.  You  may  let  men  know  of  your  dis- 
illusion or  (ultimately)  of  your  success,  but  you 
must  not  tell  the  story  of  your  doubt,  as  you  must 
not  tell  the  story  of  your  progress  to  success 

It  has  been  necessary  to  analyse  these  rules  be- 
cause in  the  love-story  that  is  to  follow  every  one 
of  them  was  outraged,  and  outraged  repeatedly. 
To  many  the  story  will  seem  so  preposterous  as  to 
be  incredible.  Let  such  readers  recall  their  own 
life-long  observance  of  the  conventions  of  society, 
and  get  such  satisfaction  as  they  may  out  of  the 
thought  that  they  are  not  as  James  Boswell.  Yet 
Boswell  was  a  human  being,  who,  after  his  strange 
wooings,  became  a  loving  husband. 

Let  the  reader  remember  that  the  evidence  which 
is  to  be  placed  before  him  is,  in  general,  taken  from 
letters  written  to  the  best  loved  of  all  his  friends, 
the  Reverend  William  Temple,  the  friend  of  his 
boyhood,  his  devoted  correspondent  and  confidant. 
All  his  days  Boswell  felt  a  consuming  desire  to 
impart  his  emotions  to  a  confidant,  a  desire  worthy 


120  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

of  comparison,  perhaps,  with  that  of  the  heroines 
in  Racine's  tragedies,  save  that  it  dispenses  with 
the  trappings  of  dignity  and  reserve,  unwiUingly 
abandoned,  which  distinguish  the  amorous  ladies 
of  the  classical  drama.  There  was  much  to  tell, 
and  he  could  but  rejoice  that  he  had  a  friend  to 
tell  it  to.  The  story  had  begun  in  their  boyhood, 
when  the  two  foolish  youngsters  told  each  other  of 
the  kind  of  woman  they  would,  in  future,  be  willing 
to  marry. 

James,  it  would  appear,  pretended,  in  the  begin- 
ning, to  be  mature  and  philosophical  about  it  all. 
His  ambitions,  from  the  earliest  moment,  seem  to 
have  been  astir,  but  they  prompted  him  to  dreams 
of  greatness  in  the  world  of  men.  With  the  ful- 
fillment of  this  dream,  might  not  woman  interfere  ? 
Long  before  they  come  within  our  ken.  Temple  and 
Boswell,  or  rather,  Willie  and  James,  had  made  a 
jest  out  of  this  dream  of  greatness,  and  they  never 
forgot  it  as  long  as  they  lived.  Exactly  what  it 
signified  to  them  we  do  not  know,  —  for  who  shall 
interpret  the  cryptic  wit  of  friendship  ?  —  but  its 
general  meaning  is  clear.  From  the  beginning 
Boswell  had  determined  to  be  great,  and  from  the 
beginning  his  ambition  had  been  the  subject  of 
playful  jest,  such  as  friend  uses  with  friend.  Again 
and  again  Boswell  writes  to  Temple  of  some  recent 
experience,  "I  was  the  Great  Man."     With  this 


IN  LOVE  ni 

dream  of  greatness  there  miDgled  thoughts  of  a 
helpmate  who  should  be  a  worthy  mistress  of  Au- 
chinleck.  Manifold  were  the  natural  graces  and 
the  endowments  of  fortune  with  which  this  lady 
must  be  blessed :  wealth,  beauty,  and  affability 
should  unite  their  charms  in  the  perfect  harmony 
that  was  to  make  up  this  impossible  she.  As 
Shelley,  in  a  later  age,  was  always  imagining  that 
he  had  found  at  last  his  ideal  embodied  in  the  flesh, 
so,  though  in  less  exalted  strains  and  with  more 
earthly  attributes,  did  our  young  Boswell  dream 
that  he  had  found  his  mate.  In  the  first  of  his 
letters  that  has  come  down  to  us,  we  find  this 
passage : — 

You  know  I  gave  you  a  hint  in  my  last  of  the  con- 
tinuance of  my  passion  for  Miss  W 1 ;  I  assure  you, 

I  am  excessively  fond  of  her,  so  (as  I  have  given  you 
fair  warning)  don't  be  surprised  if  your  grave,  sedate, 
philosophick  friend,  who  used  to  carry  it  so  high,  and 
talk  with  such  a  composed  indifference  of  the  beauteous 
sex,  and  whom  you  used  to  admonish  not  to  turn  an 
Old  Man  too  soon,  don't  be  thunderstruck,  if  this  same 
fellow  should  all  at  once,  subito furore  abreptus,  commence 
Don  Quixote  for  his  adorable  Dulcinea.  But  to  talk 
seriously,  I  at  first  fell  violently  in  love  with  her,  and 
thought  I  should  be  quite  miserable  if  I  did  not  obtain 
her ;  but  now  it  is  changed  to  a  rational  esteem  of  her 
good  qualities,  so  that  I  should  be  extremely  happy  to 
pass  my  life  with  her,  but  if  she  does  not  incline  to  it. 


U2  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

I  can  bear  it  cequo  animo  and  retire  into  the  calm  regions 
of  Philosophy.  She  is,  indeed,  extremely  pretty,  and 
posest  of  every  amiable  qualification.  She  dances, 
sings,  and  plays  upon  several  instruments  equally  well, 
draws  with  a  great  deal  of  taste,  and  reads  the  best 
authors ;  at  the  same  time  she  has  a  just  regard  to  true 
piety  and  religion,  and  behaves  in  the  most  easy,  af- 
fable way.  She  is  just  such  a  young  lady  as  I  could 
wish  for  the  partner  of  my  soul,  and  you  know  that  is 
not  every  one,  for  you  and  I  have  often  talked  how  nice 
we  would  be  in  such  a  choice.  I  own  I  can  have  but 
little  hopes,  as  she  is  a  fortune  of  30,000  pounds.  Heav- 
en knows  that  sordid  motive  is  farthest  from  my 
thoughts.  She  invited  me  to  come  and  wait  upon  her, 
so  I  went  last  week  and  drank  tea ;  I  was  kindly  enter- 
tained, and  desired  to  come  when  convenient.  I  have 
reason  to  believe  she  has  a  very  good  opinion  of  me,  and, 
indeed,  a  youth  of  my  turn  has  a  better  chance  to  gain 
the  affections  of  a  lady  of  her  character,  than  of  any 
other ;  but  (as  I  told  you  before)  my  mind  is  in  such  an 
agreable  situation  that  being  refused  would  not  be  so 
fatal  as  to  drive  me  to  despair,  as  your  hot-brained, 
romantick  lovers  talk.  Now,  my  dear  friend,  I  sin- 
cerely ask  ten  thousand  pardons  for  giving  you  the 
trouble  of  this  long  narration ;  but  as  it  is  a  thing  that 
concerns  me  a  good  deal,  I  could  not  but  communicate 
it  to  you,  and  I  know,  when  I  inform  you  how  happy  it 
makes  me  to  open  my  mind,  you  will  forgive  me.  Pray 
never  speak  of  it ;  you  are  the  only  person  knows  of  it, 
except  Mr.  Love,  who  reads  to  her,  and  takes  every  un- 
suspected method  to  lend  me  his  friendly  assistance. 
Oh  Willie !  how  happy  should  I  be  if  she  consented, 


IN  LOVE  123 

some  years  after  this,  to  make  me  blest !  How  trans- 
porting to  think  of  such  a  lady  to  entertain  you  at 
Auchinleck ! 

Mr.  Love,  who  was  acting  as  the  go-between  and 
from  whom  the  young  man  had  probably  first 
learned  of  his  charmer,  was  the  actor,  whose  ac- 
quaintance we  made  in  a  former  chapter,  and  who 
eked  out  a  precarious  living  by  teaching  elocution 
and  borrowing  money  from  Boswell.  His  efforts 
at    match-making,    however,    were    unsuccessful. 

The  fair  Miss  W 1  remains  unidentified  —  the 

blanks  which  conceal  her  name  are  found  in  the 
manuscript  —  and  disappears  for  ever  from  our 
story.  She  was  not  destined  to  become  mistress 
of  Auchinleck  or  to  settle  her  £30,000  on  our  hero. 

The  letter  from  which  the  quotation  is  drawn 
is  one  written  by  Boswell  before  he  was  eighteen 
years  old ;  he  had  yet  to  visit  London,  to  complete 
his  legal  studies,  and  to  make  the  Grand  Tour. 
But  even  amid  the  distractions  of  London  and 
foreign  travel,  his  thoughts  ran  continually  upon 
love.  The  search  for  his  Dulcinea  was  to  share 
in  his  search  for  the  Great,  and  the  problem  was 
to  be  laid  before  more  than  one  of  his  heroes. 

Mention  has  already  been  made  of  a  Baron  de 
Zuylen  whom  Boswell  met  at  Utrecht.  His  daugh- 
ter Belle  (or  Isabella),  who  preferred  the  fanciful 


124  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

name,  Zelide,  wlilcli  she  had  fabricated  for  herself, 
was  exactly  of  Boswell's  age,  and  like  him  in  many 
respects.  She  was  a  true  and  very  delightful 
daughter  of  the  eighteenth  century,  vivacious  in 
the  extreme,  yet  subject  to  continual  fits  of  sensi- 
bility, romantic  yearnings,  and  dreams  of  free  love. 
As  a  keen  student  of  mathematics,  —  she  rose 
early  in  the  morning  to  master  conic  sections,  — 
she  soon  emancipated  herself  from  the  Christian 
religion,  which  was  not  sufficiently  exact  to  com- 
mend itself  to  her  intelligence,  and  lost  herself  in 
the  perplexities  of  metaphysical  speculation.  She 
longed  to  become  rational  in  thought  and  conduct. 
But,  with  all  the  instincts  of  a  bluestocking,  she 
retained  a  pardonable  vanity,  and  loved  laughter 
and  high  spirits.  In  introspective  fashion  she 
wrote  a  "portrait"  of  herself,  which  is  perhaps  the 
best  introduction  to  her  somewhat  complicated 
personality.  It  is  in  French  and  may  be  rendered 
as  follows :  — 

Compassionate  in  temper,  liberal  and  generous  by 
inclination,  Zelide  is  good  only  by  principle;  when  she 
is  sweet  and  yielding,  give  her  credit  for  making  an 
effort.  When  she  is  long  civil  and  polite  with  people 
for  whom  she  does  not  care,  redouble  your  esteem,  for 
it  is  martyrdom.  Vain  by  nature,  her  vanity  is  bound- 
less ;  knowledge  and  contempt  of  human  kind  had  long 
since  given  her  that.  It  goes,  however,  further  even 
than  that,  as  Zelide  herself  must  admit.     She  thinks 


I.mhelht  dc  Zui/leii,  Idler  Madame  de  ('/idrrierc 

The  "  ZelicU'  "  of  Boswi-ll's  roni;nitic  intfrhulc  ii  t  I'tri't-lit 

After  a  pastfl  hy  La  lour,  ITtiii 


IN  LOVE  125 

already  that  glory  is  naught  in  comparison  with  happi- 
ness, and  yet  she  would  go  far  for  glory. 

At  what  period  do  the  lights  of  the  spirit  take  com- 
mand of  the  inclinations  of  the  heart  ?  At  that  period 
will  Zelide  cease  to  be  a  coquette.  Sad  contradiction ! 
Zelide,  who  would  not  wish  to  strike  a  dog  unthinkingly 
or  to  crush  a  miserable  insect,  is  perhaps  willing,  at 
certain  moments,  to  make  a  man  wretched  —  and  this 
by  way  of  amusing  herself,  in  order  to  win  a  kind  of 
glory  which  does  not  even  flatter  her  reason  and  touches 
her  vanity  for  but  an  instant.  But  the  fascination  is 
short ;  apparent  success  brings  her  back  to  herself ;  she 
no  sooner  realises  her  intention  than  she  despises  it, 
abhors  it,  and  would  fain  renounce  it  for  ever. 

You  ask  me  if  Zelide  is  beautiful,  pretty,  or  passable  ? 
I  am  not  sure;  it  depends  on  whether  she  is  loved  or 
wishes  to  make  herself  loved.  She  has  a  fine  throat, 
she  is  sure,  and  makes  a  little  too  much  of  it,  at  the 
expense  of  modesty.  Her  hand  is  not  white,  as  she 
also  knows,  and  she  makes  a  jest  of  it,  but  she  would 
prefer  not  to  have  to  make  it  a  subject  of  jest. 

Tender  in  the  extreme,  and  no  less  delicate,  she  can 
be  happy  neither  with  love  nor  without  it.  Friendship 
never  had  a  holier  or  worthier  temple  than  Zelide. 
Realising  that  she  is  too  sensitive  to  be  happy,  she  has 
almost  ceased  aspiring  to  happiness ;  she  devotes  her- 
self to  virtue,  flees  repentance,  and  seeks  amusements. 
Pleasures  are  rare  with  her,  but  lively ;  she  seizes  them, 
and  relishes  them  ardently.  Knowing  that  plans  are 
vain  and  the  future  uncertain,  she  is  particularly  de- 
sirous of  rendering  the  moment  happy  as  it  flies. 

Do  you  not  guess  it?    Zelide  is  a  little  voluptuous; 


126  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

her  imagination  can  make  her  smile,  even  when  her 
heart  is  heavy.  Feehngs  too  strong  and  lively  for  her 
mechanism,  excessive  activity,  which  lacks  a  satis- 
factory object  —  these  are  the  som-ce  of  all  her  ills. 
With  organs  less  sensitive,  Zelide  would  have  had  the 
soul  of  a  great  man ;  with  less  wit  and  sense,  she  would 
have  been  only  a  feeble  woman. 

This  self-conscious,  ambitious  young  lady  and 
our  self-conscious,  ambitious  young  hero  immedi- 
ately became  fast  friends.  They  exchanged  news 
of  their  melancholy  symptoms,  and  Zelide  listened 
with  patience,  and  apparently  with  appreciation, 
to  James's  eternal  advice.  Then  they  would 
suddenly  become  hilarious,  and  the  wit,  as  Boswell 
afterwards  described  it,  jflashed  like  lightning. 

But  Zelide's  skepticism  dismayed  Boswell.  Why 
should  the  mind  of  a  young  lady  be  possessed  by 
the  seven  devils  of  rationalism  .^^  It  is  natural 
enough  for  a  man  to  fall  a  victim;  but  females 
should  not  know  that  rationalism  exists.  More- 
over, Boswell  had  himseK  been  grounded  in  the 
principles  of  Christianity  by  Samuel  Johnson,  and 
was  now  reasonably  sure  of  his  faith.  This  was 
perhaps  the  most  serious  obstacle  to  their  union, 
and  Boswell  set  himseK  to  remove  it.  But  Zelide 
was  not  easily  influenced,  —  had  she  not  studied 
conic  sections  ?  —  and  so  Boswell  came  to  feel  that 
perhaps,  after  all,  Zelide  was  not  the  bride  for  him. 


The  Biographer  in  MediUilioii 
KnKravinu' bj-  W.  T.  Ciit't'n,  (idiii  a  ski'tcli  li\  Ci'oryo  I.ans'ton 


IN  LOVE  127 

It  would  have  been  a  comparatively  simple 
thing  to  win  her,  had  he  set  about  it  in  a  deter- 
mined way,  inasmuch  as  her  parents  liked  the 
young  man  and  encouraged  his  advances.  "II 
est  fort  mon  ami,"  wrote  Zelide,  "et  fort  estime 
de  mon  pere  et  de  ma  mere,  de  sorte  qu'il  est  tou- 
jours  bien  regu  quand  il  vient  me  voir."  That  he 
approached  the  subject  a  score  of  times,  no  one 
who  reads  the  following  letter  can  doubt.  The 
pair  of  them  seem  to  have  reached  a  friendly  con- 
clusion that  they  were  not  suited  for  each  other. 
He  appears,  with  his  infinite  naivete,  to  have  ex- 
plained her  deficiencies  to  her;  for  once,  when 
reckoning  up  her  various  lovers,  she  wrote,  "Bos- 
well  will  never  marry  me ;  if  he  did  marry  me,  he 
would  have  a  thousand  regrets,  for  he  is  convinced 
that  I  would  not  suit  him,  and  I  do  not  know  that 
I  should  care  to  live  in  Scotland."  They  agreed, 
therefore ;  and  yet  there  was  a  magnetic  force  that 
drew  them  ever  to  each  other.  Bos  well  would 
make  love  to  her,  in  spite  of  the  finest  assertions 
that  he  was  not  going  to  —  that  he  was  now  a 
completely  rational  being,  a  philosophic  creature, 
and  what  not.  Perhaps  in  it  all  there  mingled 
some  misgivings  at  the  thought  of  confessing  to  his 
father  that  he  was  desirous  of  bringing  home  a 
Dutch  bride. 

The  letter  which  Bos  well  addressed  to  Z6lide  a 


128  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

month  or  so  after  leaving  Utrecht  is  the  only  love- 
letter  of  his  which  has  been  preserved  to  us.  It  is 
also  one  of  the  longest  that  he  ever  wrote  —  so 
long,  indeed,  that  it  is  inadvisable  to  print  it  all.  I 
excerpt  those  passages  of  it  which  deal  with  love. 
It  is  to  be  hoped  that  the  reader  will  not  be  de- 
ceived by  the  calmness  and  impudence  of  the 
opening  passages,  but  will  note  the  crescendo  of 
feeling  which  culminates  in  the  final  postscript. 

Consider,  my  dear  Zelide,  your  many  real  advantages. 
You  are  a  daughter  of  one  of  the  first  familys  in  the 
Seven  Provinces ;  you  have  a  number  of  relations  of 
rank.  You  have  a  very  handsom  fortune,  and  I  must 
tell  you,  too,  that  Zelide  herself  is  handsom.  You 
have  a  title  to  expect  a  distinguished  marriage.  You 
may  support  a  respected  and  an  amiable  character  in 
life.  Your  genius  and  your  many  accomplishments 
may  do  you  great  honour.  But  take  care.  If  those 
enchanting  qualitys  are  not  governed  by  Prudence, 
they  may  do  you  a  great  deal  of  harm.  You  have  con- 
fest  to  me  that  you  are  subject  to  hypochondria.  I 
well  beleive  it.  You  have  a  delicate  constitution  and  a 
strong  imagination.  In  order  to  be  free  from  a  dis- 
temper which  renders  you  miserable,  you  must  not  act 
like  one  in  despair.  You  must  be  carefull  of  your 
health  by  living  regularly,  and  carefull  of  your  mind 
by  employing  it  moderately.  If  you  act  thus  you  may 
expect  to  be  happy ;  if  you  resign  yourself  to  fancy,  you 
will  have,  now  and  then,  a  little  feverish  joy,  but  no 
permanent   satisfaction.     I   should   think   you   should 


IN  LOVE  129 

beleive  me.  I  am  no  clergyman.  I  am  no  physician. 
I  am  not  even  a  lover.  I  am  just  a  gentleman  upon  his 
travels  who  has  taken  an  attachment  to  you  and  who 
has  your  happiness  at  heart.  I  may  add,  a  gentleman 
whom  you  honour  with  your  esteem.  My  dear  Z elide ! 
You  are  very  good,  you  are  very  candid.  Pray,  for- 
give me  for  begging  you  to  be  less  vain ;  you  have  fine 
talents  of  one  kind,  but  are  you  not  deficient  in  others  ? 
Do  you  think  your  reason  is  as  distinguished  as  your 
imagination.?  Beleive  me,  Zelide,  it  is  not.  Beleive 
me,  and  endeavour  to  improve. 

After  all  this  serious  counsel,  I  think  my  conscience 
cannot  reproach  me  for  writing  to  you.  I  am  sure  that 
your  worthy  father  could  not  be  offended  at  it.  I  am 
sure  that  I  intend  to  do  you  service  if  I  can.  .  .  . 

As  you  and  I,  Zelide,  are  perfectly  easy  with  each 
other,  I  must  tell  you  that  I  am  vain  enough  to  read 
your  letters  in  such  a  manner  as  to  imagine  that  you 
realy  was  in  love  with  me,  as  much  as  you  can  be  with 
any  man.  I  say  was,  because  I  am  much  mistaken  if 
it  is  not  over  before  now.  Reynst  ^  had  not  judged  so 
ill.  You  have  no  command  of  yourself.  You  can  con- 
ceal nothing.  You  seemed  uneasy.  You  had  a  forced 
merriment.  The  Sunday  evening  that  I  left  you  I 
could  perceive  you  touched.  But  I  took  no  notice  of 
it.  From  your  conversation  I  saw  very  well  that  I  had 
a  place  in  your  heart,  that  you  regarded  me  with  a 
warmth  more  than  freindly.  Your  letters  showed  me 
that  you  was  pleasing  yourself  with  having  at  last  met 
with  the  man  for  whom  you  could  have  a  strong  and  a 
lasting  passion.     But  I  am  too  generous  not  to  unde- 

^  Zelide's  brother. 


130  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

ceive  you.  You  are  sensible  that  I  am  a  man  of  strict 
probity.  You  have  told  me  so.  I  thank  you.  I  hope 
you  shall  always  find  me  so.  Is  it  not.,  however,  a  little 
hard  that  I  have  not  a  better  opinion  of  you.?^  Own, 
Zelide,  that  your  ungoverned  vivacity  may  be  of  dis- 
service to  you.  It  renders  you  less  esteemed  by  the 
man  whose  esteem  you  value.  You  tell  me,  "Je  ne 
vaudrois  rien  four  voire  femme,  je  n'ai  pas  les  talens  sub- 
alternes."  If  by  these  talents  you  mean  the  domestic 
virtues,  you  will  find  them  necessary  for  the  wife  of 
every  sensible  man.  But  there  are  many  stronger 
reasons  against  your  being  my  wife,  so  strong  that  as  I 
said  to  you  formerly,  I  would  not  be  married  to  you  to 
be  a  King.  I  know  myself  and  I  know  you.  And  from 
all  probability  of  reasoning,  I  am  very  certain  that  if 
we  were  married  together,  it  would  not  be  long  before 
we  should  be  both  very  miserable.  My  wife  must  be 
a  character  directly  opposite  to  my  dear  Zelide,  except 
in  affection,  in  honesty,  and  in  good  humour.  You 
may  depend  upon  me  as  a  freind.  It  vexes  me  to  think 
what  a  number  of  freinds  you  have.  I  know,  Zelide, 
of  several  people  that  you  correspond  with.  I  am 
therefore  not  so  vain  of  your  corresponding  with  me. 
But  I  love  you,  and  would  wish  to  contribute  to  your 
happiness. 

We  may  well  pause  here  for  breath.  There  has 
been  little  enough  so  far  of  what  is  conventionally 
regarded  as  the  style  of  a  love-letter ;  nevertheless, 
when  a  gentleman  displays  obvious  annoyance 
because  a  lady  has  so  many  other  correspondents, 
he  may,  if  a  thousand  novelists  speak  the  truth. 


IN  LOVE  131 

be  regarded  as  having  reached  that  stage  of  jeal- 
ousy to  which  she  has  labored  to  reduce  him.  It 
is  clear  that,  whether  or  not  Zelide  cared  to  marry 
our  friend,  she  was  not  unwilling  that  he  should 
languish  at  her  feet.  Did  she  not  confess  herself  a 
coquette  ?  That  she  knew  how  to  pique  his  inter- 
est is  evident  from  her  very  words,  which  have 
struck  him,  as  she  intended  they  should  do,  and 
which  rankle.  The  talents  of  a  subaltern  wife  she 
does  not  possess.  Nor,  I  venture  to  think,  was  it 
well  for  Boswell  to  marry  a  woman  who  had  them. 
But  let  us  return  to  our  letter. 

You  bid  me  write  whatever  I  think.  I  ask  your 
pardon  for  not  complying  with  that  request.  I  shall 
write  nothing  that  I  do  not  think.  But  you  are  not 
the  person  to  whom  I  could  without  reserve  write  all 
that  I  think.  After  this  I  shall  write  in  French.  Your 
correspondence  will  improve  me  much  in  that  language. 
You  write  it  charmingly.  Am  I  not  very  obedient  to 
your  orders  of  writing  des  grandes  lettres?  You  must 
do  the  same.  While  I  remain  at  Berlin,  my  address  is 
chez  Messieurs  Splizerber  et  Daum,  Berlin.  Adieu. 
Think  and  be  happy.  Pray  write  soon  and  continue 
to  show  me  all  your  heart.  I  fear  all  your  fancy.  I 
fear  that  the  heart  of  Zelide  is  not  to  be  found.  It  has 
been  consumed  by  the  fire  of  an  excessive  imagination. 
Forgive  me  for  talking  to  you  with  such  an  air  of  au- 
thority. I  have  assumed  the  person  of  Mentor.  I 
must  keep  it  up.  Perhaps  I  judge  too  hardly  of  you. 
I  think  you  have  cordiality  and  yet  you  are  much  at- 


132  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

tached  to  your  father  and  to  your  brothers.  Defend 
yourself.  Tell  me  that  I  am  the  severe  Cato.  Tell  me 
that  you  will  make  a  very  good  wife.  Let  me  ask  you, 
then,  Zelide,  could  you  submit  your  inclinations  to  the 
opinion,  perhaps  the  caprice,  of  a  husband.'^  Could 
you  do  this  with  chearfulness,  without  losing  any  of 
your  sweet  good  humour,  without  boasting  of  it.^* 
Could  you  live  quietly  in  the  country  six  months  a  year  ? 
Could  you  make  yourself  agreeable  to  plain  honest 
neighbours.''  Could  you  talk  like  any  other  woman, 
and  have  your  fancy  as  much  at  command  as  your  harpsi- 
chord ?  Could  you  pass  the  other  six  months  in  a.city  where 
there  is  very  good  society,  though  not  the  high  mode  ? 

At  this  point  the  reader  interrupts  the  writer 
with  cries  of  protest,  fortissimo.  We  all  reply 
unanimously  in  the  negative.  Poor  Zelide,  you 
certainly  could  not  do  these  things,  and  well  did 
James  Boswell  know  it.  He  knew  that  Zelide 
could  not  be  happy  at  Auchinleck,  because  he 
could  not  be  happy  there  himself ;  and  if  the  reader 
will  have  the  patience  to  look  once  more  at  the 
questions  that  are  asked,  he  will  hear  the  echoes 
of  a  conversation  between  James  and  Zelide,  in 
which  she  had  been  given  an  account  of  the  mani- 
fold miseries  of  life  in  Scotland.  Withal,  the  whole 
passage  is  touched  with  that  preposterous  humour 
to  which  Boswell  liked  to  feel  that  his  friends 
finally  became  accustomed.  But  his  catechism  is 
not  yet  finished. 


IN  LOVE  133 

Could  you  live  thus,  and  be  content?  Could  you 
have  a  great  deal  of  amusement  in  your  own  family? 
Could  you  give  spirits  to  your  husband  when  he  is 
melancholy  ?  I  have  known  such  wives,  Zelide.  What 
think  you?  Could  you  be  such  a  one?  If  you  can, 
you  may  be  happy  with  the  sort  of  man  that  I  once  de- 
scribed to  you.     Adieu. 

Let  not  religion  make  you  unhappy.  Think  of  God 
as  he  realy  is,  and  all  will  appear  chearfull.  I  hope  you 
shall  be  a  Christian.  But,  my  dear  Zelide !  worship 
the  sun  rather  than  be  a  Calvinist.  You  know  what  I 
mean.  I  had  sealed  this  letter.  I  must  break  it  up 
and  write  a  little  more.  This  is  somewhat  like  you.  I 
charge  you  once  for  all.  Be  strictly  honest  with  me.  If 
you  love  me,  own  it.  I  can  give  you  the  best  advice. 
If  you  change,  tell  me.  If  you  love  another,  tell  me. 
I  don't  understand  a  word  of  your  mystery  about  "a 
certain  gentleman  whom  you  think  of  three  times  a 
day."  What  do  you  mean  by  it?  BerHn  is  a  most 
delightfull  city.  I  am  quite  happy.  I  love  you  more 
than  ever.  I  would  do  more  than  ever  to  serve  you.  I 
would  kneel  and  kiss  your  hand,  if  I  saw  you  married  to 
the  man  that  could  make  you  happy.  Answer  me  this 
one  question.  If  I  had  pretended  a  passion  for  you, 
which  I  might  easily  have  done,  for  it  is  not  difficult 
to  make  us  beleive  what  we  are  allready  pleased  to 
imagine  —  answer  me  —  would  you  not  have  gone  to 
the  world's  end  ?  Supposing  even  that  I  had  been  dis- 
inherited by  my  father,  would  you  not  have  said,  "  Sir, 
here  is  my  portion.  It  is  yours.  We  may  live  gen- 
teely  upon  it."  Zelide,  Zelide,  excuse  my  vanity.  But 
I  tell  you,  you  do  not  know  yourself,  if  you  say  that 


134  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

you  would  not  have  done  thus.  You  see  how  freely  I 
write,  and  how  proudly.  Write  you  with  all  freedom, 
but  with  your  enchanting  humility  !  "/e  suis  glorieuse 
d'etre  voire  amie."  That  is  the  stile.  Is  not  this  a  long 
letter.'*  You  must  not  expect  me  to  write  regularly. 
Farewell,  my  dear  Zelide.  Heaven  bless  you,  and  make 
you  rationaly  happy.     Farewell. 

This  letter,  I  need  scarcely  remark,  is  one  of 
Boswell's  most  characteristic  performances.  I 
have  known  young  ladies  to  become  virtuously 
indignant  over  it.  There  is  not  in  it,  we  may 
admit,  that  note  of  chivalry  which  is  supposed  to 
indicate  a  noble  devotion  to  the  sex.  And  yet, 
when  allowance  is  made  for  the  insolence  of  it  all, 
for  its  pomposity  and  its  sermonising,  I  do  not 
believe  that  Zelide  was  displeased  with  it.  Did 
she  not  keep  it  as  long  as  she  lived  ?  The  very 
jumble  of  the  sentences  in  the  postscript  is  elo- 
quent. *'I  don't  understand  a  word  of  your  mys- 
tery of  a  certain  gentleman  whom  you  think  of 
three  times  a  day.  What  do  you  mean  by  it.^ 
Berlin  is  a  most  delightfuU  city.  I  am  quite  happy. 
I  love  you  more  than  ever."  If  Zelide  did  not 
realise  that  the  creature  was  trapped,  she  must 
have  been  devoid  of  feminine  instinct.  If  she 
wanted  Boswell,  she  had  but  to  stoop  and  pick  him 
up. 

For  some  excellent  feminine  reason  she  decided 


IN  LOVE  135 

not  to  take  him  at  the  moment.  She  was  not  sure. 
There  were  other  candidates.  And  then  there 
was  the  thought  of  living  in  Scotland,  which  Bos- 
well  had  done  nothing  to  make  attractive  to  her. 
It  was  safe  to  postpone  the  whole  affair.  But  she 
did  not  neglect  him.  She  continued  to  write  to 
him,  as  we  know  from  the  fact  that  Boswell  laid 
her  letters  before  the  philosophic  gaze  of  Rous- 
seau. 

During  my  melancholy  at  Utrecht  [he  wrote  in 
December  to  Rousseau]  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  a 
young  woman  of  the  highest  nobility,  and  very  rich.  I 
conducted  myself  in  such  a  way  as  to  win  the  reputa- 
tion of  a  philosopher.  Ah,  how  deceptive  are  appear- 
ances !  If  you  care  to  amuse  yourself  by  reading  some 
pieces  by  this  young  lady,  you  will  find  them  in  a  small, 
separate  parcel.  I  should  like  to  have  your  sentiments 
on  her  character.  You  are  the  only  one  to  whom  I 
have  showed  her  papers.  I  could  entrust  to  you  any- 
thing in  the  world  [vous  confier  tout  au  monde]. 

Perhaps  Rousseau  could  not  have  done  better 
than  to  advise  Boswell  to  win  Zelide  as  fast  as  ever 
he  could.  Just  why  James  feared  her  vivacity  is 
not  clear  —  perhaps  it  was  because  she  did  not 
have  complete  respect  for  the  conventions  of 
society.  But  neither  did  he.  Marrying  a  girl 
with  the  same  faults  that  you  have  yourself  has 
at  least  this  advantage,  that  they  will  not  come  to 


136  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

her  with  a  shock  of  painful  novelty,  or  become  an 
increasing  burden  with  the  years.  There  are 
people  (very  modern  people)  who  fancy  that  Bene- 
dick and  Beatrice  quarrelled  and  separated  soon 
after  their  marriage.  Certainly  they  were  too 
wise  to  live  after  the  conventional  standards  set 
by  Claudio  and  Hero.  At  any  rate,  I  have  never 
heard  of  any  one  who  thought  that  they  were 
likely  to  perish  of  dulness  and  boredom.  We  may 
quarrel  with  people  constituted  like  ourselves,  but 
we  have  also  the  priceless  means  of  understanding 
them.  Boswell  missed  the  opportunity  to  marry 
a  girl  who  understood  him.  Had  they  married, 
she  might  very  probably  not  have  contrived  to 
make  of  him  a  steadier  or  a  better  man ;  but  I  do 
not  think  she  would  have  blushed  for  him.  The 
Boswell  family  has  always  been  ashamed  of  the 
only  genius  that  ever  adorned  it  —  a  temptation 
which  Zelide,  with  her  more  liberal  training  and 
temper,  might  have  been  depended  upon  to  with- 
stand. 

And  so  Boswell  saw  Zelide  no  more.  But  he 
could  not  soon  forget  her,  and  she  will  appear  again 
in  our  story. 

In  "sweet  Siena,"  Boswell  encountered  an  "Ital- 
ian Signora,"  of  a  more  than  earthly  beauty,  no 
doubt,  who  detained  him  there  long  after  he  should 
have  been  off  to  Corsica.    Of  her  we  know  nothing. 


IN  LOVE  137 

But  we  do  know  that  the  whole  problem  of  our 
hero's  relations  with  the  sex  was  laid  before  Paoli ; 
that  he  gave  the  finest  advice,  and  also  promised 
Boswell  that,  if  he  would  return  in  twenty  years, 
he  would  find  in  Corsica,  not  only  science  and  art, 
but  ladies  as  splendid  as  those  in  any  Parisian 
salon. 


CHAPTER  VII 
WOOmG  A  WIFE 

In  the  little  village  of  Adamtown,  not  far  from 
Auchinleck,  there  lived,  in  the  year  1767,  a  widow 
by  the  name  of  Blair.  Her  daughter  Kate,  the 
heir  to  the  fortune  which  had  been  left  by  the  late 
Mr.  Blair,  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  and  de- 
scribed, after  the  manner  of  the  period,  as  being 
sensible,  cheerful,  and  pious,  and  of  a  countenance 
which,  though  not  beautiful,  was  "agreeable.'* 
During  her  minority  her  relative,  the  Laird  of 
Auchinleck,  had  been  one  of  her  guardians;  and 
of  a  Sunday  she  sat  dutifully  in  the  Master's  pew 
of  the  little  church  on  the  estate. 

In  the  eyes  of  the  young  Boswell,  just  home 
from  his  travels,  this  Scots  cousin  of  his  was  the 
finest  woman  he  had  ever  seen,  and  her  charms 
were  in  no  way  injured  by  the  fact  that  she  pos- 
sessed great  wealth.  What  a  Mistress  of  Auchin- 
leck she  would  make !  Her  picture  would  adorn 
the  family  gallery  —  "  Catherine,  wife  of  James 
Boswell,  Esq.,  of  Auchinleck."  Her  children  would 
be  as  clever  as  their  father  (or  his  friend,  the 
Reverend  William  Temple),  and  as  charming  as 
their  mother.     Here,  at  any  rate,  was  a  flame  of 


WOOING  A  WIFE  139 

whom  one's  father  might  approve.  She  would, 
the  boy  explained,  add  her  lands  to  the  ancestral 
estates,  and  he,  as  her  husband,  might  have,  at 
once,  "a  pretty  little  estate,  a  good  house,  and  a 
sweet  place." 

"  I  wish  you  had  her,"  said  the  father  laconically. 

To  her  estate  James  accordingly  repaired,  and 
began  his  suit.  He  so  far  succeeded  as  to  prevail 
upon  Mrs.  Blair  to  come  and  make  a  visit  at  Au- 
chinleck,  and  to  bring  Kate  with  her.  The  visit 
lasted  four  days,  and  there,  amid  the  romantic 
groves  of  the  family  seat,  he  adored  her  like  a 
divinity.  She  was  henceforward  the  "Princess," 
and  before  the  month  of  June  was  out,  James 
rather  prematurely  referred  to  her  as  "my  charm- 
ing bride."  When  Temple  came  to  Edinburgh 
to  visit  the  young  advocate,  he  was  told  that  he 
must  ride  across  country  to  Adamtown,  on  a 
romantic  errand,  and  inspect  the  goddess.  He 
should  have  his  "consultation  guineas"  for  such 
expert  advice  as  he,  a  lifelong  friend,  knowing  the 
full  story  of  James's  foibles,  might  care  to  give. 

One  of  the  most  highly  characteristic  of  Bos- 
wellian  documents  is  a  sheet  of  instructions  which 
the  young  fellow  wrote  out  for  his  friend,  and  en- 
titled, "Instructions  for  Mr.  Temple,  on  his  Tour 
to  Auchinleck  and  Adamtown."  It  is  well  known, 
but  we  cannot  afford  to  forgo  the  information  that 


140  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

it  contains ;  and  a  portion  of  it  may  be  reprinted, 
as  given  by  its  first  editor.  The  sheet  has  been, 
unfortunately,  separated  from  the  manuscript  of 
which,  it  was  originally  a  part,  and  its  present 
location  is  unknown. 

He  will  set  out  in  the  fly  on  Monday  morning,  and 
reach  Glasgow  by  noon.  Put  up  at  Graham's,  and  ask 
for  the  horses  bespoke  by  Mr.  Boswell.  Take  tickets 
for  the  Friday's  fly.  Eat  some  cold  victuals.  Set  out 
for  Kingswell,  to  which  you  have  good  road;  arrived 
there,  get  a  guide  to  put  you  through  the  muir  to  Lou- 
doun ;  from  thence  Thomas  knows  the  road  to  Auchin- 
leck,  where  the  worthy  overseer,  Mr.  James  Bruce, 
will  receive  you.  Be  easy  with  him,  and  you  will  like 
him  much ;  expect  but  moderate  entertainment,  as  the 
family  is  not  at  home. 

Tuesday.  —  See  the  house ;  look  at  the  front ;  choose 
your  room ;  advise  as  to  pavilions.  Have  James  Bruce 
to  conduct  you  to  the  cab-house ;  to  the  old  castle ;  to 
where  I  am  to  make  the  superb  grotto ;  up  the  river  to 
Broomsholm;  the  natural  bridge;  the  grotto;  the 
grotto- walk  down  to  the  Gothic  bridge;  anything  else 
he  pleases. 

Wednesday.  —  Breakfast  at  eight ;  set  out  at  nine ; 
Thomas  will  bring  you  to  Adamtown  a  little  after 
eleven.  Send  up  your  name;  if  possible,  put  up  your 
horses  there ;  they  can  have  cut  grass ;  if  not,  Thomas 
will  take  them  to  Mountain,  a  place  a  mile  off,  and 
come  back  and  wait  at  dinner.  Give  Miss  Blair  my 
letter.  Salute  her  and  her  mother;  ask  to  walk.  See 
the  place  fully;  think  what  improvements  should  be 


WOOING  A  WIFE  141 

made.  Talk  of  my  mare,  the  purse,  the  chocolate. 
Tell  you  are  my  very  old  and  intimate  friend.  Praise 
me  for  my  good  qualities  —  you  know  them ;  but  talk 
also  how  odd,  how  inconstant,  how  impetuous,  how 
much  accustomed  to  women  of  intrigue.  Ask  gravely, 
"Pray  don't  you  imagine  there  is  something  of  madness 
in  that  family?"  Talk  of  my  various  travels  —  Ger- 
man princes,  Voltaire,  and  Rousseau.  Talk  of  my 
father;  my  strong  desire  to  have  my  own  house.  Ob- 
serve her  well.  See  how  amiable !  Judge  if  she  would 
be  happy  with  your  friend.  Think  of  me  as  the  "great 
man"  at  Adamtown  —  quite  classical,  too!  Study  the 
mother.  Remember  well  what  passes.  Stay  tea.  At 
six,  order  horses,  and  go  to  New  Mills,  two  miles  from 
Loudoun ;  but  if  they  press  you  to  stay  all  night,  do  it. 
Be  a  man  of  as  much  ease  as  possible.  Consider  what 
a  romantic  expedition  you  are  on.  Take  notes;  per- 
haps you  now  fix  me  for  life. 

Whether  the  young  clergyman  took  notes  enough 
to  satisfy  the  future  biographer,  and  whether  he 
showed  a  subtle  skill  in  uniting  an  indulgent  ac- 
count of  Boswell's  inconstancy  and  impetuosity 
with  a  eulogy  of  his  good  qualities,  I  very  much 
doubt.  The  role  of  ambassador  in  affairs  of  the 
heart  has  ever  been  fraught  with  peril ;  moreover, 
Temple  was  a  somewhat  stiff  and  solemn  young 
man,  with  a  personal  —  and  professional  —  disap- 
proval of  Boswell's  propensity  to  intrigue.  He  was 
neither  odd  nor  vivacious;  and  though  he  loved 
his  friend   for  his   eccentric   charm,   it  may   be 


142  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

doubted  whether  he  quite  succeeded  in  communi- 
cating it. 

One  incident  of  Temple's  visit  was  pecuUarly 
alarming.  At  Adamtown  he  met  a  merchant 
named  Fullarton,  recently  returned  from  the  East 
Indies,  —  the  whole  episode  reads  like  a  chapter 
out  of  "Roderick  Random,"  —  who  is  thereafter 
called  "the  Nabob."  His  presence  there  dis- 
mayed Boswell,  and  caused  him  to  cry  out,  "The 
mare,  the  purse,  the  chocolate,  where  are  they 
now  ?  .  .  .  1  am  certainly  not  deeply  in  love,"  he 
added,  "for  I  am  entertained  with  this  dilemma 
like  another  chapter  in  my  adventures,  though  I 
own  to  you  that  I  have  a  more  serious  attachment 
to  her  than  I  ever  had  to  anybody ;  for  'here  ev'ry 
flower  is  united.'" 

Boswell  had,  in  truth,  got  himself  into  the  emo- 
tional rapids.  The  speed  at  which  he  was  travel- 
ling was  thrilling,  and  the  constant  change  of  scene 
and  mood  afforded  him  infinite  entertainment; 
but  the  point  towards  which  he  was  plunging  he 
could  not  clearly  foresee.  To  begin  with  the  least 
of  his  difficulties,  he  was  still  in  correspondence 
with  both  Zelide  and  the  Italian  Signora.  The 
former  let  him  know  that  she  talked  of  him  with- 
out either  resentment  or  attachment;  the  latter 
wrote  "with  all  the  warmth  of  Italian  affection." 
Kate  Blair  was  better  suited  to  him  and  to  Auchin- 


WOOING  A  WIFE  143 

leek,  to  be  sure ;  but  the  vivacious  Dutch  woman 
and  the  passionate  Italian  offered  a  life  of  novelty 
and  excitement.  One  of  the  Signora's  letters, 
indeed,  moved  him  to  tears.  And  so  he  fluttered, 
in  thought,  from  flower  to  flower,  and  tasted  the 
sweets  of  each ;  but  he  returned  ever  and  anon  to 
the  heiress. 

His  was  an  embarrassment  of  riches.  We  are 
dealing  now  with  the  most  dissipated  period  in  a 
life  which  was  never  conspicuous  for  self-restraint. 
It  may  be  questioned  whether  it  is  right  to  bring 
to  bear  against  a  man  the  information  that  is  pri- 
vately conveyed  in  a  letter  to  his  most  intimate 
friend,  or  whether,  even  after  the  lapse  of  a  cen- 
tury and  a  half,  a  writer  is  justified  in  setting  down 
in  cold  print  the  facts  that  he  has  read  in  docu- 
ments that  ought  never  to  have  been  preserved. 
The  public  is  harsh,  and  the  critics  are  harsher,  if 
not  actually  hypocritical,  in  dealing  with  erring 
mortals  who  are  no  longer  here  to  defend  them- 
selves or  to  destroy  the  evidence  against  them. 
"The  important  thing,"  it  has  been  said,  "is  not 
to  get  caught";  and  the  adage  is  as  true  of  the 
mighty  dead  as  it  is  of  the  living.  And  yet  the 
man  who  has  chanced  upon  new  facts  in  the  biog- 
raphy of  a  great  writer  may  perhaps  be  pardoned 
for  giving  them  to  the  world ;  for  unless  he  actu- 
ally destroys  the  evidence  which  he  has  found 


144  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

(which  of  course  he  has  no  manner  of  right  to  do), 
he  must  reckon  with  the  certainty  that  some  later 
investigator  will  turn  it  up  and  put  it  into  print. 
The  scholar  is  not  responsible  for  the  original 
recording  of  the  facts ;  he  merely  reports  what  he 
has  found ;  it  is  not  his  office  to  apportion  a  great 
man's  meed  of  praise  or  infamy.  Such  a  practice 
has  at  least  the  approval  of  Johnson.  When, 
years  later,  Boswell  proposed  to  print  the  autobiog- 
raphy of  Sir  Robert  Sibbald,  which  he  thought 
"the  most  natural  and  candid  account  of  himself 
that  ever  was  given  by  any  man,"  Mrs.  Thrale 
objected,  and  gave  the  usual  reason :  "To  discover 
such  weakness  exposes  a  man  when  he  is  gone." 
"Nay,"  said  Johnson,  "it  is  an  honest  picture  of 
human  nature." 

The  fact,  then,  is  that  Boswell  had  sought  out 
the  company  of  other  "charmers,"  notably  that 
of  a  brunette,  whom  he  habitually  describes  as  his 
"black  friend,"  and  who  was  known  to  his  friends 
as  "the  Moffat  woman,"  because  he  had  met  her 
at  the  town  of  that  name.  Her  real  name  is,  for- 
tunately, unknown  to  us.  Temple  was  eager  to 
get  his  friend  married  off,  in  order  to  rescue  him 
from  this  artful  female. 

I  startle  [Boswell  said  to  Temple]  when  you  talk  of 
keeping  another  man's  wife.  Yet  that  was  literally  my 
scheme,  though  my  imagination  represented  it  just  as 


WOOING  A  WIFE  145 

being  fond  of  a  pretty,  lively,  black  little  lady,  who,  to 
oblige  me,  staid  in  Edinburgh,  and  I  very  genteely  paid 
her  expenses.  You  will  see  by  my  letter  to  her  that  I 
shall  have  a  house  and  a  servant-maid  upon  my  hands. 

Nevertheless  he  could  not  break  the  disgraceful 
bond.  Perhaps  he  had  neither  the  will  nor  the 
inclination  to  do  so;  in  any  case,  he  could  not  do 
so  at  the  moment,  for  the  woman  was  about  to 
bear  him  a  child.  In  December  she  gave  birth  to 
a  daughter,  who  was  named  "Sally."  Boswell 
makes  one  reference  to  her,  in  a  letter  to  Temple, 
and  then  is  silent  for  ever.  Of  Sally  we  hear  no 
more. 

All  this  happened  in  the  midst  of  the  negotia- 
tions for  the  hand  of  the  Princess  Kate.  One  can 
but  wonder  whether  the  heiress  heard  any  rumour 
of  the  irregularity  of  her  lover's  life  at  the  moment 
when  his  devotion  to  her  was  supposed  to  be  all- 
absorbing.  It  is  certain  that  she  did  hear  gossip 
of  another  kind.  Boswell  had  been  rash  in  talking 
about  his  "Princess"  and  her  "wary  mother,"  and 
had  even  spoken  of  their  wish  to  make  a  good  thing 
out  of  any  future  alliance.  This  he  referred  to 
metaphorically  (and  indiscreetly)  as  their  system 
of  salmon-fishing.  Gossip  came  to  the  ears  of  Mrs. 
Blair,  and  the  Princess,  not  unnaturally,  left  Bos- 
well's  letters  unanswered. 

Boswell,  too,  heard  gossip.     Miss  Blair  was,  a 


146  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

friend  told  him,  a  well-known  jilt.  Yet  the  situa- 
tion never  became  so  strained  as  to  result  in  a 
quarrel.  The  ladies  were,  indeed,  "wary."  Why 
should  they  not  be  so.f*  James  was  decidedly  a 
good  catch,  a  clever  and  entertaining  young  fellow 
enough,  if  only,  to  use  his  own  words,  he  could 
restrain  his  flight iness.  It  was  not  necessary,  the 
ladies  thought,  to  break  with  him ;  but  only  to 
administer  a  snub.  He  was  allowed  to  think  that 
the  Nabob  was  winning  the  day.  New  rivals  ap- 
peared. Boswell  fretted  and  fussed.  He  wrote 
more  letters.  At  last  a  temporising  reply  was 
sent  by  the  Princess.  Her  calmness  brought  him 
once  more  to  a  state  of  subjection,  in  which  he  was 
convinced  that  he  was  at  last  genuinely  in  love. 

Then,  suddenly,  Miss  Blair  burst  like  a  star  on 
Edinburgh,  the  guest  of  Lord  Karnes,  the  intimate 
friend  and  companion  of  her  cousin,  Jenny  Max- 
well, the  young  Duchess  of  Gordon.  Boswell  flew 
to  her  at  once.  She  was  capricious.  At  first  she 
seemed  glad  to  see  him  there.  Again,  she  was 
distant  and  reserved.  Probably  the  Duchess  had 
opinions  of  the  suitor  which  were  not  without  in- 
fluence. Yet  the  two  were  together  often.  Bos- 
well accompanied  the  young  ladies  to  the  theatre 
to  witness  a  performance  of  "Othello,"  and  in  the 
jealous  Moor  he  saw  the  very  likeness  of  himself. 
How  many  a  lover  has  been  emboldened  by  the 


WOOING  A  WIFE  147 

mimic  scene !  At  this  moment  he  put  his  arm 
about  her  waist,  and  fancied  that  she  leaned 
towards  him.  He  watched  her  tears,  and  often 
spoke  to  her  of  the  torment  that  they  saw  before 
them.     Still  he  thought  her  distant. 

At  last  the  young  Duchess  went  away  from  Edin- 
burgh, and  Boswell  was  glad  of  it.  He  went  again 
to  his  Princess.  The  story  of  his  interview  is  as 
vivid  as  anything  in  the  *'Life  of  Johnson." 

I  found  her  alone,  and  she  did  not  seem  distant.  I 
told  her  that  I  was  most  sincerely  in  love  with  her,  and 
that  I  only  dreaded  those  faults  which  I  had  acknowl- 
edged to  her.  I  asked  her  seriously  if  she  now  believed 
me  in  earnest.  She  said  she  did.  I  then  asked  her  to 
be  candid  and  fair  as  I  had  been  with  her,  and  to  tell 
me  if  she  had  any  particular  liking  for  me.  What 
think  you,  Temple,  was  her  answer?  "No;  I  really," 
said  she,  "have  no  particular  liking  for  you ;  I  like  many 
people  as  well  as  you."  (Temple,  you  must  have  it  in 
the  genuine  dialogue.) 

Boswell.  —  Do  you  indeed  ?  Well,  I  cannot  help 
it.  I  am  obliged  to  you  for  telling  me  so  in  time.  I 
am  sorry  for  it. 

Princess.  —  I  like  Jeany  Maxwell  [Duchess  of  Gor- 
don] better  than  you. 

B.  —  Very  weU.  But  do  you  like  no  man  better  than 
me? 

P.  —  No. 

B.  —  Is  it  possible  that  you  may  like  me  better  than 
other  men  ? 


148  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

P.  —  I  don't  know  what  is  possible. 

(By  this  time  I  had  risen  and  placed  myself  by  her, 
and  was  in  real  agitation.) 

B.  —  I  '11  tell  you  what,  my  dear  Miss  Blair,  I  love 
you  so  much  that  I  am  very  unhappy.  If  you  cannot 
love  me,  I  must,  if  possible,  endeavour  to  forget  you. 
What  would  you  have  me  do  ? 

P.  —  I  really  don't  know  what  you  should  do. 

B.  —  It  is  certainly  possible  that  you  may  love  me, 
and  if  you  shall  ever  do  so,  I  shall  be  the  happiest  man 
in  the  world.  Will  you  make  a  fair  bargain  with  me.^ 
If  you  should  happen  to  love  me,  will  you  own  it  ? 

P.  —  Yes. 

B.  —  And  if  you  should  happen  to  love  another, 
will  you  tell  me  immediately,  and  help  me  to  make 
myself  easy  ? 

P.  —  Yes,  I  will. 

B.  —  Well,  you  are  very  good.  (Often  squeezing  and 
kissing  her  fine  hand,  while  she  looked  at  me  with  those 
beautiful  black  eyes.) 

P.  —  I  may  tell  you  as  a  cousin  what  I  would  not  tell 
to  another  man. 

B.  —  You  may,  indeed.  You  are  very  fond  of  Au- 
chinleck  —  that  is  one  good  circumstance. 

P.  —  I  confess  I  am.  I  wish  I  liked  you  as  well  as  I 
do  Auchinleck. 

B.  —  I  have  told  you  how  fond  I  am  of  you.  But 
unless  you  like  me  sincerely,  I  have  too  much  spirit  to 
ask  you  to  hve  with  me,  as  I  know  that  you  do  not  like 
me.  If  I  could  have  you  this  moment  for  my  wife,  I 
would  not. 


WOOING  A  WIFE  149 

P.  —  I  should  not  like  to  put  myself  in  your  offer, 
though. 

B.  —  Remember,  you  are  both  my  cousin  and  my 
mistress,  you  must  make  me  suffer  as  little  as  possible. 
As  it  may  happen  that  I  may  engage  your  affections, 
I  should  think  myself  a  most  dishonourable  man,  if  I 
were  not  now  in  earnest ;  and,  remember,  I  depend  upon 
your  sincerity ;  and,  whatever  happens,  you  and  I  shall 
never  have  any  quarrel. 

P.  —  Never. 

B.  —  And  I  may  come  and  see  you  as  much  as  I 
please  ? 

P.  —  Yes. 

0  reader,  is  not  this  scene  worthy  of  the  great 
Trollope  ?  More  modern  in  tone  than  Fielding  or 
Fanny  Burney.^  Do  you  not  hear  the  very  lan- 
guage of  the  eighteenth  century  more  distinctly 
than  in  the  words  of  the  Narcissas  and  Sophias  who 
crowd  the  pages  of  its  fictions.?  Somehow,  I 
cannot  but  like  the  black-eyed  Kate.  She  was  a 
coquette,  of  course,  —  much  more  of  a  coquette 
than  Zelide,  —  but  I  should  think  all  young  ladies 
would  be  grateful  to  her  for  her  retort  to  our  hero  : 
"I  wish  I  liked  you  as  well  as  I  do  Auchinleck." 

Of  the  art  of  a  man  who  could  thus  set  down  the 
very  words  of  his  courtship  in  a  letter  to  a  friend, 
not  much  can  be  said,  for  most  readers  will  be 
thinking  rather  of  the  breach  of  decorum  than  of 
the  perfection  of  the  art.     It  would  certainly  be 


150  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

difficult  to  discover  a  passage  in  any  work  of  fiction 
which  sets  forth  more  vividly  the  uncertain  emo- 
tions which  surge  over  a  young  pair  who  are  dis- 
cussing the  very  vital  question  whether  or  not 
they  wish  to  get  married.  It  is  all  very  droll,  of 
course.  But  then  our  Boswell  was  one  of  the 
drollest  men  who  ever  lived.  "Curious"  was  his 
own  word  for  the  scene :  — 

My  worthy  friend,  what  sort  of  a  scene  was  this  ?  It 
was  most  curious.  She  said  she  would  submit  to  her 
husband  in  most  things.  She  said  that  to  see  one 
loving  her  would  go  far  to  make  her  love  that  person ; 
but  she  could  not  talk  anyhow  positively,  for  she  never 
had  felt  the  uneasy  anxiety  of  love.  We  were  an  hour 
and  a  half  together,  and  seemed  pleased  all  the  time.  I 
think  she  behaved  with  spirit  and  propriety.  I  admire 
her  more  than  ever.  .  .  .  She  has  the  justest  ideas. 
She  said  she  knew  me  now.  She  could  laugh  me  out 
of  my  ill-humour.  She  could  give  Lord  Auchinleck  a 
lesson  how  to  manage  me.  Temple,  what  does  the  girl 
mean  ? 

What  did  she  mean  ?  It  was  clear  only  that  she 
was  leading  him  a  chase  —  he  knew  not  whither. 
The  thought  of  his  rivals  dismayed  him  contin- 
ually. There  was,  in  particular,  a  young  Member 
of  Parliament,  who  was  also  a  knight  and  an  offi- 
cer in  the  Guards,  Sir  Alexander  Gilmour,  said  to 
be  worth  £1,600  a  year.  Wliat  chance  was  there 
with  such  a  competitor.'*     Boswell,  who  realised 


WOOING  A  WIFE  151 

that  it  would  be  **a  noble  match,"  began  to  feel 
that  the  game  was  up. 

And  then,  suddenly,  who  should  appear  in  Edin- 
burgh but  the  Nabob  !  He  was  himself  no  happy 
suitor,  but  had  concluded,  from  his  own  experi- 
ences with  Kate,  that  she  intended  to  take  Boswell. 
This  he  himself  explained  to  Boswell  when  they 
met.  For  meet  they  did.  James,  it  would  appear, 
scraped  acquaintance  with  Mr.  FuUarton  by  way 
of  discovering  how  he  stood  with  the  charmer. 
The  Nabob  was  all  friendliness,  and  together  they 
joked  about  the  situation  in  which  they  found 
themselves.  Together  they  went  and  called  upon 
Miss  Blair.  They  were  surprised  to  find  that, 
though  she  behaved  exceedingly  well,  her  reserve 
was  more  than  ordinary.  When  they  left  her, 
they  cried  aloud  with  one  accord,  "Upon  my  soul, 
a  fine  woman  !'* 

In  a  burst  of  friendly  admiration,  Boswell  pro- 
posed that  they  should  sup  together  at  the  house 
of  one  of  his  numerous  cousins,  and  talk  matters 
over.  Perhaps,  between  them,  they  could  get 
something  accomplished.  "I  do  believe,  Mr.  Ful- 
larton,"  said  Boswell,  "you  and  I  are  in  the  same 
situation  here.  Is  it  possible  to  be  upon  honour, 
and  generous,  in  an  affair  of  this  kind.''" 

They  agreed  that  it  was  possible.  After  supper, 
they  adjourned  to  a  tavern,  where  we  may  be 


152  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

certain  that  they  drank  the  lady's  health,  and  can- 
vassed the  situation.  Boswell  repeated  to  FuUar- 
ton  his  friend  Dempster's  opinion  that  all  Miss 
Blair's  connexions  were  in  an  absolute  confederacy 
to  lay  hold  of  every  man  who  had  a  thousand 
pounds  a  year,  and  repeated  his  own  mot  about  the 
salmon-fishing.  "You  have  hit  it,"  cried  the  in- 
genuous Nabob;  "we're  all  kept  in  play;  but  I 
am  positive  you  are  the  fish,  and  Sir  Alexander  is 
only  a  mock  salmon  to  force  you  to  jump  more 
expeditiously  at  the  bait."  The  new  allies  sat 
together  till  two  in  the  morning,  by  which  time 
they  had  agreed  that  both  should  offer  themselves 
once  more  to  Miss  Blair,  privatim  et  seriatim. 
Boswell  was  to  offer  first. 

In  the  morning  —  or,  rather,  later  in  the  morn- 
ing —  he  presented  himself  once  more  before  the 
Princess.  She  received  him,  and  made  tea  for 
him.  It  was  well  for  Boswell  that  he  had  come 
first,  for  the  lady  was  feeling  gracious,  though  she 
had  apparently  decided  to  put  an  end  to  the 
affair.  She  begged  Mr.  Boswell  not  to  be  angry, 
though  she  must  be  honest  with  him.  "What, 
then,"  said  Boswell,  "have  I  no  chance  ?"  "No," 
said  she.  He  asked  her  to  repeat  the  rejection 
"upon  her  word  and  upon  honour,"  and  she  did  so. 

She  would  not  tell  me  [he  adds]  whether  she  was 
engaged  to  the  knight.     She  said  she  would  not  satisfy 


WOOING  A  WIFE  153 

an  idle  curiosity.  But  I  own  I  had  no  doubt  of  it. 
What  amazed  me  was  that  she  and  I  were  as  easy  and 
as  good  friends  as  ever.  I  told  her  I  have  great  animal 
spirits,  and  bear  it  wonderfully  well.  But  this  is  really 
hard.  I  am  thrown  upon  the  wide  world  again.  I 
don't  know  what  will  become  of  me. 

It  was,  I  have  said,  well  for  Boswell  that  he  had 
gone  first  to  try  his  fortune  with  the  heiress.  The 
other  victim  got  shorter  shrift.  Alas,  poor  Nabob  ! 
With  his  appearance  on  the  scene  a  sudden  light 
must  have  dawned  upon  Miss  Blair.  Despite  the 
''serious  and  submissive  manner"  in  which  the 
Nabob  came  to  her,  she  had  grown  suspicious  of 
collusion;  for,  as  he  confided  to  Boswell,  *'she 
would  give  him  no  satisfaction,  and  treated  him 
with  a  degree  of  coldness  that  overpowered  him 
quite." 

Well,  our  Boswell  was  destined  to  learn  the  true 
nature  of  a  coquette.  Z61ide  had  never  treated 
him  like  this.  Perhaps,  after  all,  he  had  made  a 
mistake.  Meanwhile  his  mind  was  diverted  by  a 
visit  to  London,  where  he  was  delighted  to  find 
that  he  was  at  last,  in  truth,  "a  great  man."  His 
"Account  of  Corsica"  had  appeared,  and  had 
brought  him  no  small  amount  of  fame.  He  now 
had  his  reward  for  his  audacity  in  visiting  the 
island.  A  crisis  in  the  fortunes  of  Paoli  and  the 
Corsicans  was  rapidly  approaching;  the  future  of 


154  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Corsica  was  becoming  a  matter  of  international 
significance  and  public  interest.  Boswell's  book 
was  bought  and  read.  Among  other  readers  was 
Zelide.  She  wrote  Boswell  about  the  reception 
of  the  book  in  Holland,  told  him  that  two  Dutch 
translations  were  under  way,  and  proposed  herself 
to  render  the  book  into  French. 

Boswell  was  delighted.  Zelide  was  a  woman 
worth  knowing !  Correspondence  with  her  flour- 
ished once  more.  "Upon  my  soul,  Temple,  I  must 
have  her!"  he  wrote  in  March.  "She  is  so  sen- 
sible, so  accomplished,  and  knows  me  so  well,  and 
likes  me  so  much,  that  I  do  not  see  how  I  can  be 
unhappy  with  her."  He  had  persuaded  his  god- 
father. Sir  John  Pringle,  who  had  seen  Zelide  on 
the  Continent,  that  she  was  perfectly  adapted  to 
him,  and  wrote  to  his  father  begging  permission  to 
go  over  to  Utrecht  and  propose.  He  had  already 
broached  the  matter  to  Zelide,  and  she  had  sug- 
gested that  they  meet  without  having  pledged 
themselves  in  any  way,  and  see  whether  they  would 
dare  to  risk  an  engagement  —  if  not,  they  might 
still  be  friends  for  life.  *'My  dear  friend,"  she 
wrote  a  little  later,  "it  is  prejudice  that  has  kept 
you  so  much  at  a  distance  from  me.  If  we  meet, 
I  am  sure  that  prejudice  will  be  removed." 

But  Temple,  being  a  clergyman  and  English, 


WOOING  A  WIFE  155 

disapproved  of  the  foreign  woman.  ("  What  would 
you  think  of  the  fine,  healthy,  amiable  Miss  Dick, 
with  whom  you  dined  so  agreeably?"  Boswell 
asked  Temple,  parenthetically.)  And  then  he  sent 
Zelide's  next  letter  to  his  father,  that  the  Laird 
might  see  for  himself  what  a  lady  she  was. 

How  do  we  know  but  she  is  an  inestimable  prize  .'^ 
[he  wrote  to  Temple  in  April].  Surely  it  is  worth  while 
to  go  to  Holland  to  see  a  fair  conclusion,  one  way  or 
other,  of  what  has  hovered  in  my  mind  for  years.  I 
have  written  to  her,  and  told  her  all  my  perplexity.  I 
have  put  in  the  plainest  light  what  conduct  I  absolutely 
require  of  her ;  and  what  my  father  will  require.  I  have 
bid  her  be  my  wife  at  present,  and  comfort  me  with  a 
letter  in  which  she  shall  shew  at  once  her  wisdom,  her 
spirit,  and  her  regard  for  me.  You  shall  see  it.  I  tell 
you,  man,  she  knows  and  values  me  as  you  do.  After 
reading  the  enclosed  letters,  I  am  sure  you  will  be  better 
disposed  towards  my  charming  Zelide. 

How  arrogant  is  man !  Zelide  took  offence  at 
last,  and  sent  to  Boswell  an  "acid  epistle,"  the 
flashing  wit  of  which,  he  complained  to  Temple, 
scorched  him.  She  was  a  lady,  brilliant  enough, 
to  be  sure,  but  likely  to  become  a  termagant  at 
forty  —  and  already  she  was  near  thirty.  Sud- 
denly a  fear  attacked  him  that  his  father  would 
consent  to  his  proposal  to  go  over  to  Utrecht  and 
woo.     But  luckily  Lord  Auchinleck  was  firm.     He 


156  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

would  have  no  Dutcli  women  at  Auchinleck ;  and 
so  his  son  now  gladly  obeyed  his  behest  to  let  the 
woman  alone.  "Worthy  man!"  cried  the  boy, 
"this  will  be  a  solace  to  him  upon  his  circuit." 

As  for  Zelide  [he  wrote  to  Temple]  I  have  written  to 
her  that  we  are  agreed.  "My  pride,"  say  I,  "and  your 
vanity  would  never  agree.  It  would  be  like  the  scene 
in  our  burlesque  comedy,  '  The  Rehearsal ' :  '  I  am  the 
bold  thunder,'  cries  one;  *the  quick  lightning  I,'  cries 
another.  Et  voild  notre  menage.'*  But  she  and  I  will 
allways  be  good  correspondents. 

This  final  renunciation  occurred  in  May,  1768, 
more  than  four  years  after  the  establishment  of 
their  intimacy  at  Utrecht. 

How  Boswell  weathered  it  out  till  summer,  it  is 
not  easy  to  say ;  he  was  now,  to  use  his  own  words, 
"thrown  upon  the  world  again."  But  a  man  who 
unites  with  an  extreme  susceptibility  a  fixed  deter- 
mination to  marry  cannot  be  long  bereaved.  In 
the  course  of  a  visit  to  his  cousins,  the  Montgom- 
erys  of  Lainshaw,  he  met  the  "finest  creature  that 
ever  was  formed,"  and  named  her  at  once  la  belle 
Irlandaise.  She  was  an  Irish  cousin  of  Margaret 
Montgomery,  and  so  no  time  need  be  lost  in  pre- 
liminaries. She  had  a  sweet  countenance,  full 
of  sensibility,  and  was  "formed  like  a  Grecian 
nymph";  her  age  was  sixteen.  Her  father  (who 
had  an  estate  of  £1000  a  year  and  "above  £10,000 


WOOING  A  WIFE  157 

in  ready  money")  was  an  Irish  counsellor-at-law, 
and  as  worthy  a  man  as  Boswell  had  ever  met. 
Father,  mother,  and  aunt  were  all  in  Scotland  with 
la  belle  Irlandaise,  whose  name  was  Mary  Anne. 
Father,  mother,  and  aunt  all  approved  of  James. 
"Mr.  Boswell,"  said  the  aunt  to  him,  "I  tell  you 
seriously  there  will  be  no  fear  of  this  succeeding, 
but  from  your  own  inconstancy."  It  was  ar- 
ranged that  Boswell  should  visit  Ireland  in  March, 
and,  furthermore,  that  in  the  meantime  he  should 
correspond  —  with  the  father. 

The  thought  of  a  visit  to  Ireland  added  a  glow 
to  wooing;  the  theatre  of  his  adventures  was 
widening  once  more.  The  "Account  of  Corsica" 
was  being  printed  in  Ireland,  —  a  so-called  "third 
edition,"  —  and  its  success  had  given  the  father 
and  mother  —  Boswell  seems  habitually  to  have 
encountered  "wary"  parents  —  an  opportunity 
of  flattering  the  suitor. 

From  morning  to  night,  I  admired  the  charming  Mary 
Anne.  Upon  my  honour,  I  never  was  so  much  in  love. 
I  never  was  before  in  a  situation  to  which  there  was 
not  some  objection ;  hut  here  evry  flower  is  united,  and 
not  a  thorn  to  be  found.  But  how  shall  I  manage  it  ? 
They  were  in  a  hurry,  and  are  gone  home  to  Ireland. 
They  were  sorry  they  could  not  come  to  see  Auchinleck, 
of  which  they  had  heard  a  great  deal.  Mary  Anne 
wished  much  to  be  in  the  grotto.  It  is  a  pity  they  did 
not  come.     This  Princely  Seat  would  have  had  some 


158  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

effect.  ...  I  was  allowed  to  walk  a  great  deal  with 
Miss.  I  repeated  my  fervent  passion  to  her  again  and 
again.  She  was  pleased,  and  I  could  swear  that  her 
little  heart  beat.  I  carved  the  first  letter  of  her  name 
on  a  tree.  I  cut  off  a  lock  of  her  hair,  male  pertinaci. 
She  promised  not  to  forget  me,  nor  to  marry  a  lord 
before  March." 

Temple  was  not  the  only  friend  who  heard  of  the 
passion  for  Miss  Mary  Anne.  The  whole  story 
was  confided  to  Sir  Alexander  and  Lady  Dick. 
The  latter  had  reached  the  cynical  conclusion, 
shared  perhaps  by  the  reader,  that  Boswell  was 
eager  to  marry  money.  Of  this  sordid  motive 
Boswell  speaks  in  a  letter  to  Sir  Alexander,  a  para- 
graph of  which  is  here  printed  for  the  first  time. 
The  reader  may  make  what  he  can  of  it. 

The  Irish  heiress  whom  I  went  to  see  at  Lainshaw 
turned  out  to  be  the  finest  creature  that  ever  I  beheld, 
a  perfect  Arcadian  shepherdess,  not  seventeen ;  so  that 
instead  of  solid  plans  of  fortune-hunting,  I  thought  of 
nothing  but  the  enchanting  reveries  of  gallantry.  It 
was  quite  a  fairy  tale.  I  know  that  if  I  were  to  tell  this 
to  Lady  Dick,  she  would  not  believe  a  word  of  it,  but 
would  maintain  that  I  am  disguising,  even  to  myself, 
my  old  passion  for  gold.  The  truth,  however,  is  that 
I  am  in  love  as  much  as  ever  man  was,  and  if  I  played 
Carrickfergus  once  before,  I  play  it  a  hundred  times 
now. 

I  was  lately  at  Adamtown,  and  had  a  long  talk  with 


WOOING  A  WIFE  159 

Heiress  Kate  by  the  side  of  her  wood.  She  told  me  that 
the  knight  Sir  Sawney  was  never  to  rule  her  territories. 
But  alas,  what  could  I  say  to  her  while  my  heart  was 
beyond  the  sea  ?     So  much  for  love ! 

A  very  dangerous  relapse,  however,  in  favour  of 
the  Princess  now  occurred.  Sir  Alexander  Gilmour 
(or  Sir  Sawney,  as  Boswell  had  nicknamed  him)  bad 
made  off,  and  the  wary  mother,  it  seems,  was  not 
unwilling  that  James  should  again  be  received  as  a 
suitor.  Once  more,  therefore,  did  he  walk  "whole 
hours"  with  Miss  Blair,  and  once  again  did  he 
kneel  before  her.  Letters  were  written  in  the  old 
manner,  designed  to  melt  down  Kate's  coldness. 
And  then  "came  a  kind  letter  from  my  amiable 
Aunt  Boyd  in  Ireland,  and  all  the  charms  of  sweet 
Marianne  revived." 

This  was  in  December.  In  the  spring,  somewhat 
later  than  had  originally  been  intended,  the  pro- 
posed visit  to  Ireland  was  made.  Boswell  had,  as 
a  companion,  his  cousin  Margaret  Montgomery, 
the  particular  friend  of  Mary  Anne ;  at  Margaret's 
home  in  Lainshaw,  it  will  be  recalled,  he  had  first 
met  la  belle  Irlandaise.  It  is  odd  that  Boswell 
should  have  said  so  little  of  this  visit.  It  is  not 
mentioned  in  the  "Life  of  Johnson."  Indeed, 
practically  nothing  has  been  known  hitherto  of 
Boswell's  visit  to  that  remarkable  island ;  but  the 
discovery  of  a  letter  to  Sir  Alexander  Dick,  written 


160  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

from  Donaghadee,  on  May  29,  1769,  lights  up  the 
whole  of  this  obscure  period  in  Boswell's  life.  In 
Ireland  Boswell  ran  true  to  form.  He  was  careful 
to  meet  the  Lord  Lieutenant.  Why  should  one 
cross  the  Irish  Sea  and  fail  to  meet  the  most  prom- 
inent man  in  the  nation  ^  But  how  to  approach  a 
lord  lieutenant?  As  a  friend  of  Corsica.  Noth- 
ing more  natural.  By  this  device  he  had  obtained 
an  interview  with  William  Pitt,  the  Prime  Minister 
of  England,  three  years  before,  when  he  had  called 
on  the  great  man,  dressed  in  Corsican  costume,  and 
pleaded  for  his  foreign  friends.  He  now  found  the 
Irish  naturally  well  disposed  towards  the  Corsi- 
cans. 

The  Lord  Lieutenant  was  remarkably  good  to  me 
[he  writes].  And  I  assure  you  I  have  not  met  a  firmer 
and  keener  Corsican.  I  believe  something  considerable 
will  be  raised  in  this  kingdom  for  the  brave  islanders. 
I  am  indefatigable  in  fanning  the  generous  fire.  I  have 
lately  received  a  noble,  spirited  letter  from  Paoli.  This 
I  have  shewn  to  numbers,  and  it  has  had  an  admirable 
effect. 

Boswell  liked  the  country  as  well  as  the  people. 
He  thought  Dublin  "a  noble  city,"  and  the  life 
there  "magnifiicent."  He  visited  a  number  of 
country  seats,  and  saw  some  rich  and  well-culti- 
vated land.  He  planned,  before  his  return,  to 
visit  Lough  Neach  and  the  Giants*   Causeway. 


Bos-well  ill  Corsica  II  All  ire 


III  tlie  dress  olaii  :iiiir-(1  Corsicaii  Chief,  as  lit-  appi-aivd  at  Sliakt'speaio's  Jubilee 
at  Stratford  on  A \ on,   S»-ptenil)er,    1709,   tlie   year   following  liis  publication  of 

"  An  Account  of  Corsica  " 


WOOING  A  WIFE  161 

He  would  like,  he  said,  to  come  back  and  see  a 
"great  deal  more  of  Hibernia." 

But  what  of  Mary  Anne?  A  study  of  this 
young  lady  in  her  native  land  does  not  seem  in  any 
way  to  have  diminished  her  charms.  During  this 
period  no  letters  were  written  to  Temple,  so  that 
we  miss  the  opportunity  to  follow  every  shift  in  the 
lover's  mood.  But  the  confidences  reposed  in  Sir 
Alexander  Dick  are  no  less  frank,  though  much 
less  voluminous. 

I  must  not  forget  la  belle  Irlandaise,  who  is  really  as 
amiable  as  I  told  you  I  thought  her.  Only  figure  me 
dancing  a  jig  (or  strathspey)  with  her  to  the  tune  of 
Carrickfergus,  played  by  an  Irish  piper. 

This,  I  regret  to  say,  is  the  last  of  Boswell's 
utterances  about  the  Irish  beauty.  What  it  was 
that  cooled  the  ardour  of  the  young  people  we  do 
not  know;  we  must  await  the  discovery  of  other 
letters  written  in  the  early  summer  of  1769.  Per- 
haps the  parents  put  an  end  to  the  affair.  Be  this 
as  it  may,  before  the  month  of  June  was  out.  Bos- 
well  was  engaged  to  be  married  to  his  cousin, 
Margaret  Montgomery,  who  had  accompanied  him 
on  the  Irish  expedition. 

Could  anything  be  more  unexpected  ?  Hitherto, 
in  Boswell's  correspondence,  Margaret  had  been 
a  mere  lay  figure;  not  once  is  she  mentioned  in 
connexion  with  love.    She  was  a  quiet  and  admira- 


162  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

ble  person,  of  whom  Boswell's  elders  must  have 
approved.  They  must  have  deemed  her  an  emi- 
nently safe  person  —  was  she  not  a  cousin  ?  She 
was  not  a  foreign  woman,  who  would  introduce  a 
strange  note  into  the  society  of  Auchinleck;  she 
was  not  wealthy,  but  she  would  do.  It  was  really 
essential  to  get  James  married  off.  Since  his 
return  from  the  Continent,  his  life  had  been  grow- 
ing ever  looser.  There  was  need  of  a  steady,  fem- 
inine hand.  Therefore,  it  would  seem,  they  took 
care  to  throw  him  with  Margaret,  trusting  in  the 
effect  of  propinquity.  Even  before  the  expedition 
to  Ireland,  Boswell  speaks  to  Sir  Alexander  of  Miss 
Montgomery  as  sitting  by  him  while  he  writes. 
Sir  Alexander  himself  lent  his  influence  to  the 
plans  that  the  family  were  working  out.  He  told 
Boswell  that  he  would  find  his  cousin's  conversa- 
tion "nutritive,"  and  the  word  pleased  the  young 
man.  "Indeed  it  is  such  as  nourished  me,"  he 
replied,  "and  like  sweet  milk  tempers  and  smooths 
my  agitated  mind." 

Mrs.  Boswell  was  one  of  those  kindly,  long- 
suffering  women  whose  lives  are  a  quiet  blessing 
to  men ;  unhonoured  by  the  world,  but  eternally 
dear  to  a  few  who  are  privileged  to  be  near  them. 
Through  a  long  wedded  life,  through  years  in 
which  bitterness  must  have  been  her  portion,  she 
was  a  devoted  wife  to  Boswell.     He  loved  her,  and 


WOOING  A  WIFE  163 

after  her  death  never  ceased,  in  his  own  garrulous 
fashion,  to  lament  her  loss. 

But  her  husband's  ways  were  not  her  ways.  His 
enthusiasms  she  could  not  share.  It  is  to  be  feared 
that  his  restless  hero-hunting  was  to  her  a  source 
of  shame.  At  the  very  best,  it  could  have  seemed 
no  better  to  her  than  the  eccentric  taste  of  a  man 
who  collects  exotic  animals  as  pets.  *'She  dis- 
approved,"   says   Boswell,    "of   my   inviting   Mr. 

M sh,  a  man  of  ability  but  of  violent  manners, 

to  make  one  in  a  genteel  party  at  our  house  one 
evening.  'He  is,'  said  she,  'like  fire  and  water, 
useful  but  not  to  be  brought  into  company.'" 
Mrs.  Boswell  was  not  interested  in  making  social 
experiments,  in  mixing  different  kinds.  She  would 
never  have  seated  Samuel  Johnson  and  John 
Wilkes  at  the  same  table.  In  a  word,  she  never 
really  understood  what  her  husband  was  about, 
and  never  assisted  him  in  developing  that  very 
strange  variety  of  genius  which  Nature  had  be- 
stowed upon  him. 

Just  at  the  end  of  Boswell's  Commonplace  Book 
there  is  a  sheet  headed,  "Uxoriana."  It  is  one  of 
the  most  pathetic  pages  ever  traced  by  his  cheerful 
pen,  for  it  is  his  attempt  to  Boswellise  his  wife. 
Its  pathos,  to  my  mind,  consists  in  its  brevity 
—  there  are  but  four  anecdotes  set  down,  and 
they  are  dull.     There  was  in  the  lady  nothing  to 


164  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Boswellise.  Did  he  ever,  I  wonder,  in  the  long 
dull  evenings  at  Edinburgh  and  at  Auchinleck,  let 
his  mind  wander  back  to  the  Utrecht  days,  and 
to  a  young  woman  who  had  told  him  that  she 
did  not  have  the  talent  to  become  a  subaltern  in 
his  life  ? 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  SOCIAL  GENIUS  OF  B0S^\T:LL 

I  SUPPOSE  that  the  simplest  manifestation  of 
social  genius  is  a  desire  of  getting  people  together 
and  exposing  them  to  one  another.  Our  interest 
in  drama  and  novel  consists  largely  in  seeing  people 
whom  we  know  brought  into  contact  with  strange 
or  hostile  persons,  so  that  they  may  exhibit  or  de- 
velop new  sides  of  themselves.  It  is  hard  to  in- 
terest a  reader  in  the  unbroken  serenities  of  family 
life.  It  is  hard  for  social  genius  to  content  itself 
with  the  domestic  circle.  A  man  endowed  with 
such  a  genius  is  perpetually  hankering  after  "new 
faces,  other  minds"  ;  he  finds  in  clubs  and  crowded 
drawing-rooms  a  varied  and  coloured  life  which  puts 
to  shame  the  modest  pleasures  of  solitude  and 
meditation. 

All  intellectual  improvement  arises,  perhaps, 
from  submitting  ourselves  to  men  and  to  ways  of 
life  that  are  originally  alien  to  us ;  if,  in  time,  they 
get  the  better  of  our  conservatism,  our  life  is 
clearly  the  better  for  the  enrichment  they  have 
given  it ;  but  if,  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  in  the 
end  obliged  to  repudiate  them,  we  retire  with  the 
renewed    strength    that    arises    from    opposition. 


166  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

and  our  second  state  is  better  than  our  first.  If 
you  happen,  for  example,  to  disHke  Frenchmen,  it 
would,  according  to  this  philosophy,  be  well  for 
you  to  go  and  live  among  Frenchmen  until  you  dis- 
cover whether  you  are  right.  If  you  find  yourself 
becoming  a  snob  or  a  Pharisee,  it  might  be  well  for 
you  to  go  among  criminals  and  mendicants,  until 
you  realise  the  fascination  of  the  irregular  life.  An 
hour's  experience  in  such  matters  is  worth  more 
than  a  year  of  meditations. 

Of  this  philosophy  of  exposure  James  Boswell 
was  ever  an  ardent  disciple.  He  loved  friction 
—  the  excitement  which  arises  from  the  sudden 
contact  of  rivals,  the  collision  of  opponents,  ill- 
assorted  companies  :  Jove  among  peasants,  Samuel 
Johnson  in  the  Hebrides.  He  let  his  imagination 
play  with  the  thought  of  bringing  Rousseau  and 
Voltaire  together.  In  his  youth  he  went  into  the 
company  of  actors  and  of  Roman  Catholics,  be- 
cause actors  and  Roman  Catholics  were  not  ap- 
proved of  by  the  stern  society  in  which  he  had 
been  reared ;  in  his  maturer  years  he  courted  the 
acquaintance  of  the  notorious  Mrs.  Margaret 
Caroline  Rudd,  who  had  barely  escaped  from  the 
fangs  of  the  law  when  the  Perreau  brothers  were 
hanged  for  forgery;  and  he  rode  to  the  place  of 
execution  with  the  Reverend  Mr.  Hackman,  the 
murderer. 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         167 

Over  these  Incidents  the  biographers  and  critics 
of  Boswell  have  made  merry,  or  wagged  their  heads 
with  Indignation.  There  is,  however,  something 
to  be  said  for  knowing  human  nature,  even  In  its 
most  unpopular,  or  even  criminal,  manifestations ; 
one  may  hazard  the  opinion  that  the  critics  them- 
selves would  be  the  wiser  for  some  knowledge  of 
the  unconventional  life.  What  If  Boswell  did 
write  an  amatory  song  to  Mrs.  Rudd.^  It  was 
because  he  felt  her  charm ;  and  I  do  not  doubt  that 
she  had  more  of  It  than  all  the  bluestockings  and 
dowagers  in  Scotland.  Johnson  himself  envied 
Boswell  his  acquaintance  with  Mrs.  Rudd. 

There  were,  Boswell  discovered,  easy  ways  of 
Introducing  Into  conversation  this  necessary  fric- 
tion. One  can  always  take  the  other  side,  whether 
he  belongs  on  it  or  not.  One  can  always  affect 
ignorance  or  prejudice.  This  was,  from  the  begin- 
ning, one  of  his  favourite  methods  of  drawing  a  man 
out.  "I  ventured,"  he  writes  of  Paoli,  "to  reason 
like  a  libertine,  that  I  might  be  confirmed  in  virtu- 
ous principles  by  so  illustrious  a  preceptour.  I 
made  light  of  moral  feelings.  I  argued  that  con- 
science was  vague  and  uncertain ;  that  there  was 
hardly  any  vice  but  what  men  might  be  found  who 
have  been  guilty  of  it  without  remorse."  This 
from  the  man  who  wrote  reams  of  the  most  excel- 
lent counsel  to  Zellde !     Yet,  In  the  midst  of  his 


Boswell^s  Inscription  in  a  copy  qf  Anthony  Horneck^s       The  Fire  qf 
the  Altar,  or  Certain  Directions  how  to  raise  the  Soul  into   Certain 
Flames,  before,  at,  and  after  the  Receiving  the  Blessed  Sacrament^' 


BOS  WELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         169 

sermon  to  Zelide,  he  had  cried  out,  "Defend  your- 
self.    Tell  me  that  I  am  the  severe  Cato." 

The  record  of  Johnson's  conversation  teems  with 
illustrations  of  Boswell's  skill  in  starting  or  direct- 
ing the  flow  of  talk.  When  Johnson  expatiated 
on  the  advantages  to  Scotland  of  the  union  with 
England,  Boswell  himself  was  delighted  with  the 
''copious  exaggeration"  of  the  talk,  but  he  feared 
the  effect  of  it  on  the  Scotch  listeners.  *'I  there- 
fore," says  he,  "diverted  the  subject."  He  talked 
with  Mr.  Gerard  on  the  "difference  of  genius," 
for  the  express  purpose  of  engaging  him  and  John- 
son in  a  discussion  of  the  subject.  On  another 
occasion  he  wrote :  "A  strange  thought  struck  me, 
to  try  if  he  knew  anything  of  .  .  .  the  trade  of 
a  butcher.     I  enticed  him  into  the  subject." 

Again,  he  was  eternally  asking  questions.  How 
else,  pray,  is  one  to  discover  the  extent  of  an- 
other's conversation  ?  Recall  that  fascinating  vision 
which  he  summoned  up,  of  Johnson  shut  into  a 
tower  with  a  new-born  baby.  "Sir,  what  would 
you  do.?  Would  you  take  the  trouble  of  rearing 
it?  Would  you  teach  it  anything?"  And  (doubt- 
less as  growing  out  of  this  very  subject),  "Is 
natural  affection  born  with  us  ?  Is  marriage  natu- 
ral to  man  ?  "  Here  is  an  interlocutor  by  no  means 
profound,  but  eager  and  curious,  full  of  novel 
expedients  for  waking  his  subject  into  activity, 


170  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

spurring,  enticing,  decoying  him,  and  playing  the 
fool  before  him. 

I  also  [he  wrote]  may  be  allowed  to  claim  some  merit 
in  leading  the  conversation.  I  do  not  mean  leading, 
as  in  an  orchestra,  by  playing  the  first  fiddle ;  but  lead- 
ing as  one  does  in  examining  a  witness  —  starting 
topics,  and  making  him  pursue  them. 

It  is  a  felicitous  comparison.  Boswell  had  the  in- 
genuity of  a  lawyer  trained  in  cross-examination 
and  in  wringing  a  subject  dry.  There  is  much 
also  in  the  musical  metaphor  which  he  abandons* 
He  is  very  like  a  performer  on  a  musical  instru- 
ment. By  skilful  manipulation,  he  plays  upon 
men  so  as  to  display  all  that  is  most  characteristic 
in  them.  Of  this  peculiar  skill  he  was  fully  aware, 
and  loved  to  analyse  it.  He  had  learned,  for  ex- 
ample, how  to  play  upon  John  Wilkes,  and  he  so 
far  divulged  the  secret  as  to  write  thus  to  the  man 
himself : — 

Philosophy  can  analyse  human  nature,  and  from 
every  man  of  parts  can  extract  a  certain  quantity  of 
good.  Dare  I  affirm  that  I  have  found  chearfulness, 
knowledge,  wit,  and  generosity  even  in  Mr.  "Wilkes  ?  I 
suppose  few  crucibles  are  so  happily  constructed  as 
mine,  and  I  imagine  that  I  have  a  particular  talent  for 
finding  the  gold  in  your  Honour's  composition.  Cer- 
tain it  is  that  the  process  must  be  performed  very  deli- 
cately. 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         171 

Another  passage  on  the  same  theme  makes  use 
of  a  metaphor  much  less  fehcitous,  but  is  certainly 
of  value  in  showing  the  conscious  art  of  which  Bos- 
w^ell  was  the  master.  It  is  drawn  from  the  Com- 
monplace Book,  and  reads  :  — 

My  friends  are  to  me  like  the  cinnamon  tree,  which 
produces  nutmeg,  mace,  and  cinnamon ;  not  only  do  I 
get  wisdom  and  worth  out  of  them,  but  amusement.  I 
use  them  as  the  Chinese  do  their  animals ;  nothing  is 
lost ;  there  is  a  very  good  dish  made  of  the  poorest  parts. 
So  I  make  the  follies  of  my  friends  serve  as  a  dessert 
after  their  valuable  qualities. 

Of  the  splendour  of  this  endowment  it  is  perhaps 
hardly  necessary  to  speak.  To  influence  men  in 
such  a  way  as  to  bring  into  life  whatever  is  most 
characteristic ;  to  appreciate  and  elicit  w  hatever  is 
best  in  the  man  before  you ;  to  make  his  true  qual- 
ities triumph  over  his  inertia  and  his  convention- 
ality, is,  in  the  fullest  sense,  surely  a  creative  act. 
Boswell  could  almost  boast  that  he  taught  men  to 
know   themselves. 

Because  of  this  more  serious  purpose,  he  cared 
but  little  for  mere  pyrotechnical  display  in  conver- 
sation. There  were,  in  his  immediate  circle,  three 
men  famous  for  epigrams  and  bons  mots, — Beau- 
clerk,  Garrick,  and  Richard  Brinsley  Sheridan,  — 
yet  he  never  cared  to  make  a  collection  of  their 
witty  remarks.     Wit,  of  course,  he  delighted  in; 


172  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

but  the  higliest  form  of  wit  is  that  in  which  it 
blends  with  wisdom,  and  in  which  it  leads  the  in- 
quirer on  to  a  subtler  consideration  of  the  subject, 
or  provides  a  sharp  summary  of  it  in  some  flash  of 
inspiration.  In  Corsica,  Paoli  had  said  to  him, 
"Je  ne  puis  souffrir  longtemps  les  diseurs  de  bons 
mots"  ;  whereupon  Boswell  comments  :  — 

How  much  superiour  is  this  great  man's  idea  of 
agreeable  conversation  to  that  of  professed  wits,  who 
are  continually  straining  for  smart  remarks  and  lively 
repartees.  They  put  themselves  to  much  pain  in  order 
to  please,  and  yet  please  less  than  if  they  would  just 
appear  as  they  naturally  feel  themselves.  A  company 
of  professed  wits  has  always  appeared  to  me  like  a 
company  of  artificers  employed  in  some  very  nice  and 
difficult  work,  which  they  are  under  a  necessity  of  per- 
forming. 

It  is  because  of  this  neglect  of  mere  repartee  that 
the  conversation  recorded  by  Boswell  never  im- 
presses the  reader  as  a  jest-book  or  a  collection  of 
unset  jewels.  There  is  plenty  of  relief.  It  is  his 
glory  to  have  given  us  the  gem  in  its  setting. 

For  a  somewhat  similar  reason  there  is  in  his 
letters  a  lack  of  mere  news.  He  is  not  a  great 
letter-writer,  for  letter-writing  to  him  is  seldom  an 
end  in  itself.  He  usually  has  some  secondary  pur- 
pose in  mind.  He  may  wish  to  ask  a  favour,  or, 
as   in   conversation,   to   draw  out  the  real   man. 


BOS^VELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         173 

The  following  letter  to  Goldsmith,  never  before 
printed,  is  an  excellent  example  of  the  art  I  have 
been  attempting  to  define.  It  was  wTitten  im- 
mediately after  news  of  the  first  performance  of 
"She  Stoops  to  Conquer"  had  reached  Boswell 
in  Scotland.  The  success  of  the  piece  had  vastly 
enhanced  Goldsmith's  reputation,  and  Boswell 
was  filled  with  longing  to  witness  and  record  the 
triumph,  to  get  into  correspondence  with  the  new 
dramatist,  to  persuade  him  to  write  him  a  letter 
spontaneously  —  and  that  quickly,  "as  if  in  repar- 
tee." There  is  no  telling  what  may  come  of  such 
a  correspondence.  Perhaps  he  had  not  been  quite 
fair  to  Goldsmith,  who  may  respond,  in  the  hour  of 
success,  to  the  Boswellian  stimulus.  Who  knows 
but  what  he  may  yet  wish  to  Boswellise  him  ? 

But  no.  Goldsmith  was  no  letter-writer.  Spec- 
imens of  his  letters  are  of  unexampled  rarity. 
His  published  correspondence  does  not  extend  to 
forty  letters.  He  had  no  time  for  letter  writings- 
least  of  all  with  Boswell.  He  had  time  only  for 
Newbery.  But  this  makes  all  the  more,  interesting 
the  following  example,  which,  so  far  as  known,  is 
the  only  letter  that  ever  passed  between  them. 

It  begins  with  a  description  of  the  character- 
isation of  sentimental  comedy,  upon  which  "She 
Stoops  to  Conquer"  had  been  an  attack.  It  would 
be  difficult,  I  think,  in  the  range  of  criticism  to  find 


^^-**^t/^ 


A 


^'*»*-^=e/'^^  ,*/7>;d 


^  /^  ^^^±^^^«'-^ 


55C  ^rv^^C^s';^  /^/t-^A-^ys-  /v^A^   ^■n^**^  ^vt- 


<!«*r* 


^:Z*^ /Ai^^^ti^Jt^   ^' 


Facsimile  of  Letter  of  Congratulation 

Written  by  Boswell  to  Goldsmith  on  tlie  happy  coincidence  of  tlie  first  production 
of  "  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  "  and  the  birth  of  liis  own  daughter 


/^-,*-5f.£-^^     ii^-i^'Or^    /^f^    ^-a.^^^.^'  ^f'^''/^^  /^i^iH^;^ 
j^,rr»^  ir^'*^ '    •/ ^*^»^   ^/-y^^y^  ^'^^  ;?t^M'*e  ^if-t^^^ 


X 


<•    •♦ 


V 


^;. 


N 


>     ^ 


-v 


>  . 


178  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

a  more  sprightly  account  of  the  comedie  larmoyante 
of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Edustbukgh,  29  March  1773. 
Dear  Sir,  — 

I  sincerely  wish  you  joy  on  the  great  success  of 
your  new  comedy,  She  stoops  to  conquer,  or  the 
mistakes  of  a  night.  The  English  Nation  was  just 
falling  into  a  lethargy.  Their  blood  was  thickened 
and  their  minds  creamed  and  mantled  like  a  standing 
pool;  and  no  wonder  —  when  their  Comedies  which 
should  enliven  them,  like  sparkling  Champagne,  were 
become  mere  syrup  of  poppies  gentle,  soporifick 
draughts.  Had  there  been  no  interruption  to  this,  our 
audiences  must  have  gone  to  the  Theatres  with  their 
night  caps.  In  the  opera  houses  abroad,  the  Boxes  are 
fitted  up  for  teadrinking.  Those  at  Drury  Lane  & 
Covent  Garden  must  have  been  furnished  with  settees, 
and  commodiously  adjusted  for  repose.  I  am  happy 
to  hear  that  you  have  waked  the  spirit  of  mirth  which 
has  so  long  layn  dormant,  and  revived  natural  humour 
and  hearty  laughter.  It  gives  me  pleasure  that  our 
friend  Garrick  has  written  the  Prologue  for  you.  It  is 
at  least  lending  you  a  Postilion,  since  you  have  not  his 
coach ;  and  I  think  it  is  a  very  good  one,  admirably 
adapted  both  to  the  Subject  and  to  the  Authour  of 
the  Comedy. 

There  is  reference  here  to  the  fact  that  "She 
Stoops  to  Conquer"  was  performed,  not  at  Gar- 
rick's  theatre,  the  Drury  Lane,  but  at  the  Covent 
Garden.     Of  this  fact  Walpole  wrote  sneeringly : 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         179 

*'  Garrick  would  not  act  it,  but  bought  himself  off 
with  a  poor  prologue."  Boswell,  however,  liked 
what  Walpole  detested,  and  was  glad  Goldsmith 
might  have  a  prologue  by  Garrick  if  he  could  not  have 
the  advantage  of  a  production  at  the  Drury  Lane 
under  the  personal  supervision  of  his  famous  friend. 
The  next  paragraph  furnishes  a  specimen  of 
Boswell's  humour  than  which  none  is  better. 

You  must  know  my  wife  was  safely  delivered  of 
a  daughter,  the  very  evening  that  She  stoops  to  con- 
quer first  appeared.  I  am  fond  of  the  coincidence. 
My  little  daughter  is  a  fine  healthy  lively  child,  and 
I  flatter  myself  shall  be  blest  with  the  cheerfullness  of 
your  Comick  Muse.  She  has  nothing  of  that  wretched 
whining  and  crying  which  we  see  children  so  often  have ; 
nothing  of  the  Comedie  Larmoyante.  I  hope  she  shall  live 
to  be  an  agreable  companion,  and  to  diffuse  gayety  over 
the  days  of  her  father,  which  are  sometimes  a  little  cloudy. 

I  intend  being  in  London  this  spring,  and  promise 
myself  great  satisfaction  in  sharing  your  social  hours. 
In  the  mean  time,  I  beg  the  favour  of  hearing  from  you. 
I  am  sure  you  have  not  a  warmer  friend  or  a  steadier 
admirer.  While  you  are  in  the  full  glow  of  Theatrical 
Splendour,  while  all  the  great  and  the  gay  in  the  British 
metropolis  are  literally  hanging  upon  your  smiles,  let 
me  see  that  you  can  stoojp  to  write  to  me. 

I  ever  am,  with  great  regard.  Dear  Sir, 

Your  affectionate,  humble  servant, 

James  Boswell. 
My  address  is  James's  Court,  Edinburgh. 
Pray  write  directly.     Write  as  if  in  repartee. 


180  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

The  high  opinion  which  I  have  expressed  of 
Boswell's  influence  will  seem  to  many  extreme ;  but 
in  any  critical  essay  on  Boswell,  it  is  necessary  to 
account  for  a  unique  thing  —  his  genius.  An  ex- 
ceptionally high  estimate  is  indispensable  if  one 
is  to  account  for  genius.  And  yet  there  would  be 
something  quite  inadequate  in  the  analysis  if  we 
stopped  here.  We  must  beware  of  neglecting  what 
Boswell  called  his  "romantic  imagination."  Bos- 
well's wayward  imagination  might  almost  be  taken 
as  an  illustration  of  Keats's  injunction  ever  to  let 
the  fancy  roam.  He  was  particularly  fond  of  im- 
agining himself  in  romantic  circumstances. 

Readers  of  the  "Life  of  Johnson"  will  not  have 
forgotten  the  evening  on  which  Johnson  and  Bos- 
well listened  to  a  fiddler  at  Ashbourne.  "I  told 
him,"  writes  Boswell,  "that  it  [the  power  of  music] 
affected  me  to  such  a  degree  as  often  to  agitate  my 
nerves  painfully,  producing  in  my  mind  alternate 
sensations  of  pathetick  dejection,  so  that  I  was 
ready  to  shed  tears,  and  of  daring  resolution,  so 
that  I  was  inclined  to  rush  into  the  thickest  part 
of  the  battle." 

Boswell  was  plainly  right  in  calling  this  "roman- 
tic." If  Rousseau  had  written  the  sentence,  or 
Berlioz,  it  would  have  been  cited  as  a  typical  illus- 
tration of  glorious  self-abandonment  to  exalted, 
perhaps    unearthly,    emotions.     Johnson's    reply. 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS        181 

"Sir,  I  should  never  hear  it  if  it  made  me  such  a 
fool,"  shows  that  he  was  no  wiser  than  the  rest  of 
the  world  in  interpreting  this  fantastic  quality  of 
Boswell's.  Boswell  had,  at  times,  longings  worthy 
of  a  Byron.  He  coniSded  —  rashly  —  to  Johnson 
that  he  was  sometimes  in  the  humour  of  wishing  to 
retire  to  a  "desart" ;  and  he  wrote  to  Temple  that 
he  could  be  "whinstone  on  the  face  of  a  mountain," 
were  it  possible  for  him  to  be  conscious  of  it  and 
to  "brave  the  elements  by  glorious  insensibility." 
There  is  a  typical  bit  of  romanticism,  full  half  a 
century  before  Byron  cried  aloud  to  the  Alpine 
night,  — 

Let  me  be 
A  sharer  in  thy  fierce  and  far  delight, 
A  portion  of  the  tempest  and  of  thee. 

After  dining  with  Captain  Cook,  Boswell  felt  a 
desire  to  join  him  on  his  next  expedition,  and  per- 
haps circumnavigate  the  globe.  At  another  time 
he  longed  to  go  and  see  the  Great  Wall  of  China. 
However  truly  Boswell  may  be  the  exponent  of 
the  Age  of  Prose  and  its  crowded  life  in  salon  and 
club,  he  was  no  less  a  child  of  the  Romantic  Move- 
ment. And  he  who  does  not  realise  that  Boswell's 
love  of  the  civilisation  of  his  own  time  is  for  ever 
crossed  and  altered  by  strange  yearnings  after 
something  larger,  simpler,  and  more  emotional  has 
utterly  failed  to  understand  him.     To  say  that  this 


182  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

was  inconsistent  is  but  to  assert  once  more  that 
it  was  romantic. 

As  for  himself,  he  reaHsed  it  as  fully  as  might  be. 
Indeed,  he  never  tired  of  talking  about  it ;  but  the 
people  among  whom  he  lived  did  not  suffer  from 
incomprehensible  romantic  longings  for  a  larger 
experience.  His  own  description  of  this  side  of 
his  mind  will  be  found  in  the  Commonplace  Book. 

Boswell,  who  had  a  good  deal  of  whim,  used  not  only 
to  form  wild  projects  in  his  imagination,  but  would 
sometimes  reduce  them  to  practice.  In  his  calm  hours, 
he  said,  with  great  good  humour,  "There  have  been 
many  people  who  built  castles  in  the  air,  but  I  believe 
I  am  the  first  that  ever  attempted  to  live  in  them." 

It  will  be  remembered  that  he  told  Rousseau  that 
he  often  formed  "des  plans  romanesques,  jamais 
des  plans  impossibles." 

One  of  Boswell's  plans  that  was  almost  realised 
was  a  "scheme  of  going  up  the  Baltick."  Johnson 
was  inclined  to  it,  and  Boswell  never  forgave  him- 
self for  not  carrying  it  out.  His  words  of  regret 
are  characteristic  of  him  in  more  ways  than  one :  — 

I  am  sorry  now  that  I  did  not  insist  on  our  executing 
that  scheme.  Besides  the  other  objects  of  curiosity 
and  observation,  to  have  seen  my  illustrious  friend 
received,  as  he  probably  would  have  been,  by  a  Prince 
so  eminently  distinguished  for  his  variety  of  talents  and 
acquisitions  as  the  late  King  of  Sweden;  and  by  the 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS        183 

Empress  of  Russia,  whose  extraordinary  abilities,  in- 
formation, and  magnanimity  astonish  the  world,  would 
have  afforded  a  noble  subject  for  contemplation  and 
record.  The  reflection  may  possibly  be  thought  too 
visionary  by  the  more  sedate  and  cold-blooded  part  of 
my  readers ;  yet  I  own,  I  frequently  indulge  it  with  an 
earnest,  unavailing  regret. 

But  it  is  not  necessary  to  accept  Boswell's  state- 
ment that  he  alone  attempted  to  go  and  live  in  his 
Spanish  castles.  Have  not  the  greatest  dreamers 
always  done  so  ?  Is  not  every  great  achievement 
a  bit  romantic  in  its  first  conception.?  Certainly 
it  is  true  that  every  one  of  Boswell's  achievements 
was,  in  the  beginning,  a  somewhat  crack-brained 
dream.  It  was  foolish  and  visionary  for  him,  at 
the  age  of  twenty-one,  to  dream  of  becoming  the 
intimate  companion  of  the  King  of  Letters  in 
London  —  and  the  dream  came  true.  It  was  a 
crazy  notion  to  go  to  Corsica  when  it  was  in  a  state 
of  insurrection,  in  order  to  scrape  acquaintance 
with  the  rebel  leader  and  interpret  his  plans  to  the 
world ;  therefore  he  went  and  did  it.  It  was  rash, 
almost  to  the  verge  of  madness,  to  take  Dr.  Sam- 
uel Johnson,  aged  sixty-four,  on  a  jaunt  to  Ultima 
Thule ;  but  he  did  it  —  to  the  delight  of  the  world. 
And  so  it  is  important  for  those  who  call  Boswell  a 
fool  to  sit  down  and  meditate  on  the  whole  nature 
of  folly.     Unless  they  are  prepared  to  deny  his 


184  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

genius  altogether,  they  must  reahse  that  it  was  in- 
separably bound  up  with  this  romantic  folly  of  his, 
which,  when  its  airy  castles  prove  to  be  of  solid 
substance,  has  a  very  different  look. 

To  realise  one  of  his  dreams  was  to  Boswell  the 
keenest  delight  in  the  world.  At  such  a  moment 
his  spirit  knew  no  bounds.  When,  for  example, 
he  had  got  Johnson  into  a  hackney-coach  en  route 
for  the  Wilkes  dinner,  he  "exulted  as  much  as  a 
fortune-hunter  who  has  got  an  heiress  into  a  post- 
chaise  with  him  to  set  out  for  Gretna-Green." 
When  he  realised  that  he  had  actually  got  Johnson 
to  the  Hebrides,  his  elation  was  so  great  that  he 
compared  himself  to  *'a  dog  who  has  got  hold  of  a 
large  piece  of  meat,  and  runs  away  with  it  to  a 
corner,  where  he  may  devour  it  in  peace."  An 
illustration  of  what  he  himself  called  his  "avidity 
for  delight"  may  be  given  from  a  letter  addressed 
to  Samuel  Johnson  from  the  town  of  Chester.  He 
was  on  his  way  down  to  Scotland,  and  had  stopped 
to  visit  his  friend.  Colonel  Stuart.  Here  the  fas- 
cination of  the  martial  life  mingled  with  the  dig- 
nity of  the  ecclesiastical  life  (for  he  was  graciously 
received  by  Bishop  Porteus)  to  produce  a  very 
draught  of  "mortal  felicity." 

Your  letter,  so  full  of  polite  kindness  and  masterly 
counsel,  came  like  a  large  treasure  upon  me,  while 
already  glittering  with  riches.     I  was  quite  enchanted 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         185 

at  Chester,  so  that  I  could  with  difficulty  quit  it.  But 
the  enchantment  was  the  reverse  of  that  of  Circe,  for 
so  far  was  there  from  being  any  thing  sensual  in  it,  that 
I  was  all  mind.  I  do  not  mean  all  reason  only ;  for  my 
fancy  was  kept  finely  in  play.  And  why  not  ?  —  If  you 
please  I  will  send  you  a  copy,  or  an  abridgement  of  my 
Chester  journal,  which  is  truly  a  log-book  of  felicity. 

There  is  in  this  quotation  every  characteristic 
mark  of  Boswell's  genius.  He  has,  to  begin  with, 
met  everybody  in  Chester.  He  has  received  a 
letter  from  Samuel  Johnson,  which  he  has  of  course 
shown  to  the  Bishop,  and  has  become  at  once  "the 
Great  Man."  He  has  filled  his  mind  by  conver- 
sation with  the  great,  and  yet  he  has  fed  his  fancy 
as  well  as  his  reason.  And  finally,  he  has  got  a 
record  of  it  all.  No  wonder  he  was  in  such  spirits 
that  he  hoped  to  be  able  to  vanquish  even  the 
black  dog  of  melancholy  that  would  meet  him  at 
home. 

It  was  this  well-spring  of  gaiety  that  recom- 
mended Boswell  to  his  friends.  He  reckoned  with 
it  as  one  of  his  chief  qualities.  There  was  not 
much,  in  the  eyes  of  the  great,  to  recommend  the 
young  man,  and  he  knew  it.  Therefore  he  made 
the  more  skilful  use  of  such  endowments  as  he 
possessed.  It  will  be  remembered  that,  when  he 
was  first  admitted  to  the  presence  of  Paoli,  the 
General  could  not  understand  why  the  young  man 


186  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

was  there ;  he  suspected  the  presence  of  a  spy,  and 
was  on  his  guard.  But  Boswell  disarmed  him  at 
last.  He  talked  flatteringly  about  a  possible  alli- 
ance between  Britain  and  Corsica.  "I  insensibly 
got  the  better  of  his  reserve  upon  this  head.  My 
flow  of  gay  ideas  relaxed  his  severity  and  bright- 
ened up  his  humour." 

It  was  to  this  perpetual  good  humour  that  Bos- 
well owed  all  his  social  success.  The  social  honour 
that  he  coveted  most,  election  to  the  great  Literary 
Club,  he  owed  to  this.  In  the  remoteness  of  the 
Highlands  Johnson  confessed  to  Boswell  that 
several  had  wished  to  keep  him  out  of  the  Club. 
"  Burke  told  me,  he  doubted  if  you  were  fit  for  it ; 
but,  now  you  are  in,  none  of  them  are  sorry.  Burke 
says  that  you  have  so  much  good  humour  naturally, 
it  is  scarce  a  virtue." 

Nobody  is  likely  to  accuse  Samuel  Johnson  of 
being  a  flatterer,  yet  he  told  Boswell  that  he  was  a 
man  whom  everybody  liked.  The  harsh  criticism 
of  him,  as  insolent  and  pushing,  comes  from  people 
who  were  never  sufficiently  in  contact  with  him  to 
be  won  by  his  infectious  gaiety.  It  may,  indeed, 
be  doubted  whether  there  are  any  social  restric- 
tions that  will  not  go  down  before  indomitable 
good  humour.  Under  its  warm  influence  pride 
of  place  is  forgotten,  and  mortals  permit  them- 
selves to  take  pleasure  in  one  another  rather  than 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         187 

in  the  barriers  which  they  have  reared  about  their 
self-importance. 

Two  excellent  examples  of  this  power  of  Bos- 
well's  are  set  down  by  Fanny  Burney  in  her 
*' Diary."  Few  persons  were  more  adequately 
equipped  with  a  sense  of  etiquette  than  the  flut- 
tering little  lady  whose  diary  is  greater  than  any 
of  her  novels.  The  first  anecdote  was  written  at 
the  time  when  she  was  enslaved  at  Windsor,  wear- 
ing her  life  out  in  curtsying  to  Queen  Charlotte  and 
answering  the  idiotic  questions  of  King  George. 
Boswell,  like  the  rest  of  Miss  Burney's  friends,  had 
grown  indignant  at  this,  and  determined,  even  at 
the  cost  of  scandal,  to  release  her  from  her  confine- 
ment. Boswell,  who  had  known  her  well  at 
Streatham  in  the  days  before  Johnson's  death, 
approached  her  through  the  Reverend  Mr.  Gif- 
fardier,  whose  acquaintance  we  made  in  the  sec- 
ond chapter  of  this  book,  and  whom  Miss  Burney 
always  called  by  the  sobriquet  of  Mr.  Turbulent. 

[Mr.  Turbulent]  proposed  bringing  him  to  call  upon 
me;  but  this  I  declined,  certain  how  little  satisfaction 
would  be  given  here  by  the  entrance  of  a  man  so  famous 
for  compiling  anecdotes.  But  yet  I  really  wished  to  see 
him  again  for  old  acquaintance'  sake,  and  unavoidable 
amusement  from  his  oddity  and  good  humour,  as  well 
as  respect  for  the  object  of  his  constant  admiration,  my 
revered  Dr.  Johnson.     I  therefore  told  Mr.  Turbulent 


188  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

I  should  be  extremely  glad  to  speak  with  him  after  the 
service  was  over. 

Accordingly,  at  the  gate  of  the  choir,  Mr.  Turbulent 
brought  him  to  me.  We  saluted  with  mutual  glee; 
his  comic-serious  face  and  manner  have  lost  nothing  of 
their  wonted  singularity,  nor  yet  have  his  mind  and 
language,  as  you  will  soon  confess. 

"I  am  extremely  glad  to  see  you,  indeed,"  he  cried, 
"  but  very  sorry  to  see  you  here.  My  dear  ma'am,  why 
do  you  stay  ?  —  it  won't  do,  ma'am  !  you  must  resign  ! 
—  we  can  put  up  with  it  no  longer.  I  told  my  good 
host,  the  Bishop,  so  last  night ;  we  are  all  grown  quite 
outrageous!" 

Whether  I  laughed  the  most  or  stared  the  most,  I  am 
at  a  loss  to  say. 

The  conversation  is  much  longer  than  this ;  but 
as  it  is  familiar  to  many  readers,  it  need  not  be  re- 
produced in  its  entirety.  Boswell  attempted  to 
enlist  Miss  Burney's  assistance  in  the  collection  of 
material  for  the  "Life  of  Johnson,"  but  she  did  not 
feel  that  she  could  give  it.  The  publication  of  the 
book,  in  1791,  shocked  and  grieved  her  by  its 
frankness.  She  was  angry  at  the  author,  and 
remained  so  until  she  finally  met  him  at  Mrs.  Ord's, 
where  he  was  the  guest  of  honour  at  dinner. 

This  last  [Mr.  Boswell]  was  the  object  of  the  morning. 
I  felt  a  strong  sensation  of  that  displeasure  which  his 
loquacious  communications  of  every  weakness  and  in- 
firmity of  the  first  and  greatest  good  man  of  these  times 


BOSWELL'S  SOCIAL  GENIUS         189 

have  awakened  In  me  at  his  first  sight ;  and  though  his 
address  to  me  was  courteous  in  the  extreme,  and  he 
made  a  point  of  sitting  next  me,  I  felt  an  Indignant 
disposition  to  a  nearly  forbidding  reserve  and  silence. 
.  .  .  Angry,  however,  as  I  have  long  been  with  him,  he 
soon  insensibly  conquered,  though  he  did  not  soften  me. 
There  is  so  little  of  ill-design  or  ill-nature  in  him,  he  is 
so  open  and  forgiving  for  all  that  is  said  in  return,  that 
he  soon  forced  me  to  consider  him  In  a  less  serious  light, 
and  change  my  resentment  against  his  treachery  Into 
something  like  commiseration  of  his  levity ;  and  before 
we  parted,  we  became  good  friends.  There  is  no  resist- 
ing great  good-humour,  be  what  will  In  the  opposite  scale. 

He  entertained  us  all  as  If  hired  for  that  purpose, 
telling  stories  of  Dr.  Johnson,  and  acting  them  with  in- 
cessant buffoonery.  I  told  him  frankly  that  if  he 
turned  him  Into  ridicule  by  caricature,  I  should  fly  the 
premises ;  he  assured  me  he  would  not,  and.  Indeed,  his 
imitations,  though  comic  to  excess,  were  so  far  from 
caricature  that  he  omitted  a  thousand  gesticulations 
which  I  distinctly  remember. 

Mr.  Langton  told  some  stories  himself  in  Imitation 
of  Dr.  Johnson,  but  they  became  him  less  than  Mr. 
Boswell. 

I  think  It  would  be  a  mistake  to  conceive  of  Bos- 
well's  gaiety  as  a  mere  flow  of  animal  spirits;  he 
himself  would,  it  is  more  likely,  have  called  It  a 
"relish  of  existence."  For  "parties  of  pleasure," 
as  he  called  meetings  designed  to  stimulate  the 
animal  spirits,  he  had,  he  Insisted,  no  "ardent 
love."     He  "tasted"  experience  and  association 


190  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

as  a  connoisseur  tastes  old  wine.  Perhaps  no  man 
ever  lived  whose  senses  were  more  exquisitely 
alive  to  the  manifold  joys  of  social  existence.  In 
the  course  of  an  ill-ordered  life  he  did  many  a  fool- 
ish thing :  he  talked  too  much  about  himself,  and 
babbled  of  his  melancholy  to  all  who  listened ;  he 
was  vain,  and,  I  fear,  he  was  sensual ;  moreover, 
he  was  frequently  and  increasingly  drunk.  But 
he  never  insulted  his  Creator  by  regarding  life  as  a 
dull  and  uninteresting  business. 

The  consummate  proof  of  Boswell's  delight  in 
social  life  is  of  course  his  abiding  habit  of  recording 
it.  He  was  dissatisfied  with  mere  reminiscence. 
He  would  not  trust  to  his  memory,  marvelous 
though  his  memory  was.  He  wanted  as  full  and 
accurate  an  account  of  life  as  it  was  possible  to  set 
down.  One  of  the  most  delightful  and  telling  of 
his  remarks  is  found  near  the  opening  of  the  "Life 
of  Johnson,"  in  which  he  speaks  of  his  desire  that 
the  reader  should  "live  o'er  each  scene"  with 
Johnson,  that  he  might  as  it  were  "see  him  live" ; 
and  then  adds,  "Had  his  other  friends  been  as 
diligent  and  ardent  as  I  was,  he  might  have  been 
almost  completely  preserved." 


^c^i/ff.       ^  <^^ 


Inscription  in  BoswelVs  copy  qfjaussifi's      Memoire  de  la  Corse  " 
the  best-known  account  of  Corsica  b^ore  BosweWs 


CHAPTER  IX 
JOURNAL-KEEPING  AND  JOURNAL-PUBLISHING 

How  did  Boswell  take  his  notes  ?  Did  he  take 
them  on  the  spot,  or  did  he  write  them  up  after- 
wards? Are  we  to  think  of  him  as  sitting  about 
the  drawing-rooms  of  the  eighteenth  century, 
scratching  away  hke  a  stenographer  ?  Such  ques- 
tions, I  think,  the  reader  of  the  "Life  of  Johnson" 
is  always  asking  himself.  They  are  natural,  but 
are  not  entirely  easy  to  answer. 

In  the  first  place,  most  of  the  prima-facie  evi- 
dence is  lost.  The  notes  on  which  the  books  were 
based  have,  in  general,  perished.  In  his  will  Bos- 
well made  the  following  provision  for  the  publica- 
tion of  the  materials  preserved  in  the  "cabinet"  at 
Auchinleck:  "I  hereby  leave  to  the  said  Sir  Wil- 
liam Forbes,  the  Reverend  Mr.  Temple  and  Ed- 
mond  Malone,  Esquire,  all  my  manuscripts  of  my 
own  composition,  and  all  my  letters  from  various 
persons,  to  be  published  for  the  benefit  of  my 
younger  children,  as  they  shall  decide,  that  is  to 
say,  they  are  to  have  a  discretionary  power  to 
publish  more  or  less." 

The  three  executors  seem  to  have  lacked  interest 
or  initiative.     They  never  met.     All  that  we  know 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  193 

of  their  rather  shocking  neglect  of  duty  is  derived 
from  the  remarks  of  the  Reverend  Dr.  Rogers, 
one  of  the  earlier  biographers  of  Boswell,  who  ap- 
pears to  have  had  access  to  some  private  family 
information.  He  says:  "The  three  persons  nom- 
inated as  literary  executors  did  not  meet,  and  the 
entire  business  of  the  trust  was  administered  by 
Sir  William  Forbes,  Bart.,  who  appointed  as  his 
law-agent,  Robert  Boswell,  Writer  to  the  Signet, 
cousin-german  of  the  deceased.  By  that  gentle- 
man's advice,  Boswell's  manuscripts  were  left  to 
the  disposal  of  his  family ;  and  it  is  believed  that 
the  whole  were  immediately  destroyed."  Com- 
ment on  such  action  would  be  superfluous. 

Two  of  the  journals,  at  least,  escaped  the  flames. 
One  was  the  so-called  Commonplace  Book,  from 
which  quotations  have  been  often  drawn  in  these 
essays,  and  the  other  was  one  of  the  journals  used 
in  the  composition  of  the  "Life  of  Johnson."  The 
manuscript  of  the  former  I  have  never  seen ;  it  is, 
perhaps,  lost.  It  was  published  in  1874,  and  has 
long  been  familiar  to  scholars.  The  original  must 
have  been  either  a  note-book,  in  which  entries  were 
made  at  widely-separated  intervals,  or,  perhaps,  a 
series  of  loose  sheets  kept  together  in  a  portfolio. 
Although  the  order  of  the  entries  is  strangely  con- 
fused, there  is  some  semblance  of  sequence.  The 
earliest  anecdotes  belong  to  the  year  1763,  and  the 


194  YOUNG  BOS  WELL 

latest  date  recorded  is  1785.  It  covers,  therefore, 
the  most  interesting  period  of  Boswell's  life. 

It  is  clear  that  the  book  was  not  one  of  those  in- 
tended for  publication,  or  even  regarded  as  mate- 
rial to  be  written  up  for  publication.  But  it  is  no 
less  significant  and  valuable,  since  it  affords  us  a 
strictly  personal  view.  It  is,  in  truth,  what  it  has 
generally  been  called  —  a  commonplace  book,  from 
which,  on  occasion,  the  author  might  draw  an 
anecdote  or  a  mot. 

The  other  note-book  is  of  a  very  different  kind. 
It  is,  as  has  been  said,  one  of  the  journals  used  in 
writing  the  "Life  of  Johnson."  It  was  filled  up 
at  two  different  periods.  In  the  first  place,  it 
contains,  set  down  in  chronological  order,  the 
facts  in  Johnson's  boyhood  and  life  at  Oxford  that 
Boswell  had  been  able  to  learn  from  Miss  Porter, 
Johnson's  step-daughter,  Dr.  Adams,  Mr.  Hector, 
and  others,  during  a  visit  to  Ashbourne,  Lichfield, 
and  Oxford  in  March,  1776.  This  entry  is  con- 
tinuous and  chronological,  covering  Johnson's  life 
down  to  his  departure  for  London.  An  anecdote 
from  Dr.  Percy  is  added ;  and  then,  in  the  month  of 
April,  after  the  return  to  London,  notes  on  John- 
son's relations  with  Tom  Hervey,  contributed  by 
Beauclerk,  and  Langton's  account  of  Johnson's 
dispute  with  Dr.  Barnard,  Dean  of  Derry.  All 
this,  it  will  be  noticed,  is  material  that  had  been 


J.  fX  X.  «-  WX,-,s^ 


^■v^^ 


Facsimile  of  a  page  from  Bosicell's  Note-book,  1776, 
shoxcing  material  later  used  in  the  Life 


196  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

communicated  to  Boswell  by  friends  of  Johnson. 
Thus  far  the  note-book  is  not  the  record  of  John- 
son's conversation  as  heard  by  Boswell.  It  con- 
sists of  data  which  will  be  of  use  to  Boswell  in 
writing  those  periods  of  Johnson's  life  of  which  he 
has  not  had  personal  knowledge. 

But  the  most  interesting  feature  of  this  note- 
book remains  to  be  mentioned.  In  September  of 
the  following  year,  Boswell  made  another  visit  to 
Ashbourne,  where  Johnson  was  visiting  his  friend. 
Dr.  Taylor,  and  carried  this  same  note-book  with 
him,  partly  in  order  to  correct  or  amplify  what  he 
had  recorded  in  the  previous  year,  and  partly  to 
note  anything  of  importance  that  Johnson  might 
say.  When  writing  in  the  previous  year,  he  had 
left  half  a  page  blank  for  future  correction ;  and 
now,  in  1777,  he  fills  up  some  of  this  space.  In 
the  example  reproduced  on  page  195,  the  note 
written  lengthwise  of  the  sheet  has  to  do  with  an 
earlier  page  than  the  one  shown  in  the  cut.  The 
correction  is  so  elaborate  that  it  has  been  continued 
from  page  to  page. 

By  a  happy  chance,  Boswell  also  used  this  note- 
book —  as  he  had  certainly  not  originally  intended 
to  do  —  to  record  a  conversation  which  he  had  with 
Johnson  one  evening  at  Ashbourne;  and  thus  we 
are  provided  with  one  example  —  the  sole  surviv- 
ing one  —  of  the  notes  which  Boswell  used  for  one 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS 


197 


of  the  important  conversations  in  the  *'Life." 
Because  of  this  unique  value,  the  notes  are  here 
reproduced  side  by  side  with  the  corresponding 
passage,  based  on  them,  in  the  "Life." 


Note-book 
I  mentioned  the  "doom 
of  man,"  Unhappiness,  in 
his  "Vanity  of  human 
Wishes";  but  observed 
that  things  were  done 
upon  the  supposition  of 
happiness.  Grand  houses 
were  built,  fine  grardens 
[sic]  made.  He  said  these 
were  all  struggles  for  hap- 
piness. He  said  the  first 
view  of  Ranelagh  gave  an 
expansion  and  gay  sensa- 
tion to  his  mind  that 
nothing  else  had  done; 
but  As  Xerxes  wept  to 
think  that  n°^*  one  of  his 
great  army  would  be  alive 
years  after,  he  thought 
that  there  was  not  one  in 
the  brilliant  crowd  at  Rane- 
lagh that  was  not  afraid 
to  go  home  and  think. 
The  thoughts  of  each  In- 


"Life,"  vol.  Ill,  page  1981 
I  talked  to  him  of  mis- 
ery being  "the  doom  of 
man"  in  this  life,  as  dis- 
played in  his  "Vanity  of 
Human  Wishes."  Yet  I 
observed  that  things  were 
done  upon  the  supposi- 
tion of  happiness ;  grand 
houses  were  built,  fine 
gardens  were  made,  splen- 
did places  of  publick 
amusement  were  con- 
trived, and  crowded 
with  company. 

Johnson.  "Alas,  Sir, 
these  are  all  only  struggles 
for  happiness.  When  I 
first  entered  Ranelagh,  it 
gave  an  expansion  and  gay 
sensation  to  my  mind, 
such  as  I  never  experi- 
enced any  where  else.  But, 
as  Xerxes  wept  when  he 
viewed  his  immense  army. 


Birkbeck  HiU's  edition :  Oxford,  1887. 


198  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

dividual  there  would  be  and  considered  that  not 
distressing  when  alone.  one  of  that  great  multi- 
tude would  be  alive  a  hun- 
dred years  afterwards,  so 
it  went  to  my  heart  to  con- 
sider that  there  was  not 
one  in  all  that  brilliant 
circle  that  was  not  afraid 
to  go  home  and  think; 
but  that  the  thoughts  of 
each  individual  would  be 
distressing  when  alone." 

This  reflection  was  ex- 
perimentally just.        The 
feeling  of  languor,  which 
succeeds  the  animation  of 
gaiety,    is    itself    a    very 
severe  pain  ;  and  when  the 
mind    is    then    vacant,    a 
thousand  disappointments 
and  vexations  rush  in  and 
excruciate.   Will  not  many 
even  of   my  fairest  read- 
ers allow  this  to  be  true  ? 
I  said  that  being  in  love         I  suggested,  that  being 
or  having  some  fine  pro-     in  love,  and  flattered  with 
ject   for   next   day   might     hopes  of  success;  or  hav- 
preserve  felicity.     He  ad-     ing  some  favourite  scheme 
mitted    there    might    be     in  view  for  the  next  day, 
such    instances.     But    in     might  prevent  that  wretch- 
general  his  conclusion  was     edness  of    which  we  had 
just.     I  Myself  have  never     been  talking. 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS 


199 


been  more  miserable  than 
after  Ranelagh,  when  un- 
occupied &  alone  in  my 
lodgings,  and  I  suppose 
almost  all  the  beautiful 
Ladies  whom  I  have  ad- 
mired there  have  suffered 
then  as  I  did. 


He  said  he  did  not 
imagine  that  all  would  be 
made  clear  to  us  immedi- 
ately after  death ;  but  that 
the  ways  of  Providence 
would  be  explained  very 
gradually. 


Johnson.  "Why,  Sir,  it 
may  sometimes  be  so  as 
you  suppose ;  but  my  con- 
clusion is  in  general  but 
too  true.'* 

While  Johnson  and  I 
stood  in  calm  conference 
by  ourselves  in  Dr.  Tay- 
lor's garden,  at  a  pretty 
late  hour  in  a  serene  au- 
tumn night,  looking  up  to 
the  heavens,  I  directed 
the  discourse  to  the  sub- 
ject of  a  future  state.  My 
friend  was  in  a  placid  and 
most  benignant  frame. 
"Sir,  (said  he,)  I  do  not 
imagine  that  all  things 
will  be  made  clear  to  us 
immediately  after  death, 
but  that  the  ways  of  Prov- 
idence will  be  explained 
to  us  very  gradually."  I 
ventured  to  ask  him 
whether,  although  the 
words  of  some  texts  of 
Scripture  seemed  strong 
in  support  of  the  dreadful 
doctrine  of  an  eternity  of 
punishment,  we  might  not 
hope  that  the  denuncia- 
tion  was   figurative,   and 


200 


YOUNG  BOSWELL 


He  said  he  did  not  know 
if  if  [sic]  Angels  were  quite 
in  a  state  of  security.  For 
we  know  that  some  of 
them  once  fell;  but  per- 
haps they  were  kept  in  a 
state  of  rectitude  by  hav- 
ing continually  before 
them  the  punishment  of 
those  which  deviated ; 
which  was  the  reason  for 
the  wicked  being  eternally 
punished  (if  it  was  so). 
As  to  Mankind.  I  said 
It  was  not  wrong  to  hope 
that  it  might  not  be  so. 
He  said  It  was  not.  We 
might  hope  that  by  some 
other  means,  a  fall  from 
rectitude  might  be  pre- 
vented. I  said  the  words 
as  to  everlasting  punish- 
ment were  strong.  He 
said  they  were  strong.  But 


would  not  literally  be  ex- 
ecuted. 

Johnson.  "Sir,  you  are 
to  consider  the  intention 
of  punishment  in  a  future 
state.  We  have  no  reason 
to  be  sure  that  we  shall 
then  be  no  longer  liable  to 
offend  against  God.  We 
do  not  know  that  even  the 
angels  are  quite  in  a  state 
of  security ;  nay,  we  know 
that  some  of  them  have 
fallen.  It  may,  therefore, 
perhaps  be  necessary,  in 
order  to  preserve  both 
men  and  angels  in  a  state 
of  rectitude,  that  they 
should  have  continually 
before  them  the  punish- 
ment of  those  who  have 
deviated  from  it;  but  we 
may  hope  that  by  some 
other  means  a  fall  from 
rectitude  may  be  pre- 
vented. Some  of  the  texts 
of  Scripture  upon  this  sub- 
ject are,  as  you  observe, 
indeed  strong;  but  they 
may  admit  of  a  mitigated 
interpretation." 

He  talked  to  me  upon 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  201 

he  seemed  inclined  to  miti-  this    awful    and    delicate 

gate  their  interpretation,  question  in  a  gentle  tone, 

I  was  much  pleased  with  and    as    if    afraid    to   be 

this  mildness.  decisive. 

Here  is  ample  justification  of  the  general  con- 
fidence that  has  always  been  felt  in  Boswell's  accu- 
racy. The  passage  in  the  right-hand  column  is,  to 
be  sure,  much  longer.  Boswell  has  sketched,  from 
memory,  the  dramatic  background,  and  has  put 
the  reader  in  touch  with  the  circumstances  of  the 
conversation ;  but  he  has  added  nothing  at  all  ex- 
cept the  transition  from  the  ways  of  Providence  to 
the  eternal  state  of  the  angels.  It  is  possible  that 
he  made  up  the  sentence,  "Sir,  you  are  to  consider 
the  intention  of  punishment  in  a  future  state"; 
but,  in  that  case,  his  creative  imagination  was  as- 
sisted by  a  mind  which  had  become,  to  use  his  own 
phrase,  "  impregnated  with  the  Johnsonian  aether," 
and  it  is  not  likely  that,  even  in  this  and  the  follow- 
ing sentence,  he  is  far  from  the  ipsissima  verba  of 
Johnson.  The  passage  may  confidently  be  taken 
as  typical  of  Boswell's  regular  method  of  dealing 
with  his  journals. 

But  meanwhile  we  are  leaving  unanswered  the 
question  that  was  originally  proposed :  How  did 
Boswell  make  his  note-books  .^^  In  general,  he 
wrote  up  his  records  in  the  first  convenient  interval 
after  the  conversation  had  taken  place,  depending 


202  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

on  his  memory  for  the  general  scope  and  order  of 
the  remarks.  In  certain  exceptional  cases,  he 
appears  to  have  jotted  down  notes  on  the  spot. 
There  are  two  passages  in  the  *'Tour  to  Corsica" 
which  probably  give  us  as  accm'ate  a  notion  of  his 
general  procedure  as  we  are  likely  ever  to  get. 

From  my  first  setting  out  on  this  tour,  I  wrote 
down  every  night  what  I  had  observed  during  the  day, 
throwing  together  a  great  deal,  that  I  might  afterwards 
make  a  selection  at  leisure.  .  .  . 

I  regret  that  the  fire  with  which  he  spoke  upon  such 
occasions  so  dazzled  me  that  I  could  not  recollect  his 
sayings  so  as  to  write  them  down  when  I  retired  from 
his  presence. 

To  this  should  be  added  the  amazing  evidence 
given  in  the  first  volume  of  the  "Life,"  in  reference 
to  the  spring  of  1763,  when  Boswell  was  twenty- 
two  years  old. 

We  staid  so  long  at  Greenwich,  that  our  sail  up  the 
river,  in  our  return  to  London,  was  by  no  means  so 
pleasant  as  in  the  morning;  for  the  night  air  was  so 
cold  that  it  made  me  shiver.  I  was  the  more  sensible 
of  it  from  having  sat  up  all  the  night  before,  recollecting 
and  writing  in  my  journal  what  I  thought  worthy  of 
preservation;  an  exertion,  which,  during  the  first  part 
of  my  acquaintance  with  Johnson,  I  frequently  made. 
I  remember  having  sat  up  four  nights  in  one  week, 
without  being  much  incommoded  in  the  daytime. 


THE  BOS^VELL  JOURNALS  203 

On  the  other  hand,  we  are  to  remember  that 
Paoli  thought  at  first  that  Boswell  was  a  spy  be- 
cause the  young  man  was  "to  the  work  of  writ- 
ing down  all  that  he  said."  Mrs.  Thrale,  when 
she  wrote  her  *' Anecdotes  of  Johnson,"  sneered  at 
Boswell's  trick  *'of  sitting  steadily  down  at  the 
other  end  of  the  room  to  write  at  the  moment  what 
should  be  said  in  company."  To  which  he  replied 
in  the  "Life":  — 

She  has,  in  flippant  terms  enough,  expressed  her  dis- 
approbation of  that  anxious  desire  of  authenticity 
which  prompts  a  person  who  is  to  record  conversations 
to  write  them  down  at  the  moment.  Unquestionably, 
if  they  are  to  be  recorded  at  all,  the  sooner  it  is  done  the 
better. 

These  two  are  the  chief  passages  on  which  a 
comparison  of  Boswell  to  a  stenographer  can  be 
based ;  and  we  are  to  remember  that  it  is  a  kind 
of  evidence  which  people  are  likely  to  exaggerate, 
in  their  desire  to  find  proof  of  a  notion  which  has 
already  been  formed  in  their  mind.  It  would  cer- 
tainly be  a  most  serious  error  to  think  of  Boswell 
as  recording  any  large  amount  of  his  conversa- 
tional material  "at  the  moment."  The  bulk  of  it 
unquestionably  was  written  down  in  private,  as  he 
himself  has  told  us  was  his  habit.  The  note-book 
which  we  have  been  examining  supports  this  view, 


204  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

as  I  have  tried  to  show;  and  so  does  the  well- 
known  anecdote  in  the  "Life,"  in  which,  during  a 
particularly  brilliant  conversation  of  Johnson's, 
Boswell  remarked  to  Mrs.  Thrale,  "O  for  short- 
hand to  take  this  down  "and  she  replied,  *'You  '11 
carry  it  all  in  your  head.  A  long  head  is  as  good  as 
short  hand." 

If  the  fact  that  he  did  most  of  his  writing  after 
the  event  tends  to  make  anyone  doubt  the  accuracy 
of  his  record,  it  is  because  he  has  failed  to  reckon 
with  the  fidelity  of  the  man's  memory.  It  is  to 
be  recalled  that  Boswell  began  keeping  a  journal 
before  he  was  eighteen  years  old,  and,  so  far  as  we 
know,  never  interrupted  the  practice.  He  was 
constantly  engaged  in  recording  conversations  that 
he  had  heard,  and  the  resultant  training  of  his 
literal  memory  we  are  not  likely  to  exaggerate. 
Most  of  us  have  no  memory  of  conversation,  for 
two  very  simple  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  we 
have  no  great  desire  to  preserve  it ;  and,  secondly, 
we  have  never  tried  writing  it  down.  It  is  prob- 
able that  a  training  of  two  weeks  in  such  a  practice 
would  enable  a  man  to  make  a  fairly  faithful  rec- 
ord of  conversation.  In  Boswell's  case  that  train- 
ing was  extended  over  the  whole  of  his  maturity, 
called  forth  all  the  power  that  was  in  him,  and  was 
regarded  by  himself  as  his  most  precious  faculty. 
He  knew  his  journals  as  a  musician  knows  his 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  205 

score,  or  a  lover  his  mistress.  \\Tien  he  was  en- 
gaged in  reading  the  proof -sheets  of  the  "Life,"  he 
altered  a  statement  that  he  had  set  down  about 
the  conversation  of  Edmund  Burke.  In  the  proofs 
Johnson  is  quoted  as  remarking,  "His  vigour  of 
mind  is  incessant"  ;  but  Boswell  has  corrected  this 
to  read,"  His  stream  of  mind  is  perpetual " ;  and  adds 
(as  an  explanation  to  the  proof-reader) :  "I  re- 
store. I  find  the  exact  words  as  to  Burke."  What 
happened  is,  I  think,  clear.  Boswell  had  lost  the 
original  record,  and  had  reconstructed  the  remark 
about  Burke  from  memory,  using  such  words  as  he 
imagined  Johnson  to  have  employed ;  but,  in  the 
course  of  his  labours  on  the  proofs,  he  discovered 
the  original  entry  in  some  one  of  his  numerous 
note-books.^ 

In  view  of  this  meticulous  carefulness,  it  is  not 
surprising  that  he  boasted  of  the  "scrupulous 
fidelity"  of  his  journal.  He  knew  the  value  of 
what  he  was  doing.  He  knew  that  his  journals 
were,  even  in  their  undeveloped  form,  very  near 
to  the  level  of  literature.     In  his  Commonplace 

*  The  two  little  sentences  are  worth  a  moment's  study,  be- 
cause they  show  the  quaUty  of  Johnson's  conversation  which 
it  was  hardest  to  imitate  —  his  imagery.  It  is  clear  that 
Boswell  has  preserved  in  memory  the  significance  of  what 
Johnson  had  said  about  Burke,  but  the  flavour  —  the  "bou- 
quet" of  the  remark,  if  I  may  use  the  expression  —  is  lost 
with  the  metaphor. 


206  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Book  he  records,  a  propos  of  nothing,  the  following 
sentence :  "My  journal  is  ready ;  it  is  in  the  larder, 
only  to  be  sent  to  the  kitchen,  or  perhaps  trussed 
and  larded  a  little."  He  had  no  intention  of  wast- 
ing the  contents  of  his  larder.  He  had  proved  the 
value  of  his  wares,  while  still  a  young  man,  with 
his  "Account  of  Corsica."  The  portion  of  the 
book  which  had  been  praised  by  everyone  was  the 
journal  of  his  personal  experiences  and  conversa- 
tions with  Paoli,  the  part  which  is  commonly  re- 
ferred to  by  the  separate  title  of  the  "Tour  to 
Corsica."  He  had  found  his  vein  of  genius.  It 
ran  in  the  direction  of  personal  reminiscence,  not 
in  the  direction  of  history.  He  had  kept  records 
of  all  his  experiences  on  the  Continent,  and  had 
planned  some  time  or  other  to  publish  them,  in- 
cluding the  conversations  which  he  had  held  there 
with  the  Great. 

This  plan  was  never  realised ;  but  a  more  re- 
markable experience  than  any  which  had  befallen 
him  upon  the  Continent  awaited  him  in  his  own 
country.  In  August,  1773,  his  long-cherished  plan 
of  visiting  the  Highlands  and  the  Hebrides  in 
company  with  Dr.  Johnson  was  carried  out.  They 
left  Edinburgh  on  the  eighteenth  of  the  month, 
consumed  almost  two  months  and  a  half  in  travel, 
and  arrived  at  Auchinleck,  on  their  return,  on 


THE  BOSW^ELL  JOURNALS  207 

the  second  day  of  November.  Throughout  this 
trip  Boswell  employed  all  his  ingenuity  and 
brought  into  play  all  the  varied  influence  which  the 
son  of  Lord  Auchinleck  could  exert  in  Scotland,  in 
order  to  give  the  Great  Lexicographer  a  good  time. 
Their  journey  was  a  royal  progress,  save  that  they 
were  spared  that  boredom  which  royalty  must 
endure.  Their  trip  was  thorough  and  complete, 
and  they  returned  without  any  vain  regrets.  They 
had  seen  everything  worth  seeing,  and  had  met 
everybody  worth  meeting.  They  had  had  a  great 
deal  of  pure  fun,  and  acquired  a  store  of  informa- 
tion. And  Johnson  owed  all  this  to  Boswell. 
Perhaps  no  man  ever  exerted  himself  more  con- 
tinuously or  ingeniously  to  pleasure  a  friend  on 
his  travels.  Boswell's  hope  was  that  Johnson 
would  write  a  book  about  it.  Of  course,  he  him- 
self kept  a  journal  of  everything  they  had  seen 
and  everything  Johnson  had  said. 

There  was  one  aspect  of  the  journey  that  had  a 
special  importance  in  Boswell's  eyes.  Johnson 
was,  in  a  sense,  in  the  "enemy's  country."  As 
has  been  remarked  by  critics,  with  wearisome  itera- 
tion, his  dislike  of  Scotland  and  the  Scots  was  a 
harmless  and  amusing  affectation ;  but  he  had 
played  the  role  so  long  that  the  public  would  not 
let  him  drop  it,  even  had  he  been  so  disposed. 
When  it  was  known  that  Johnson  was  to  visit 


208  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Scotland,  his  friends  were  convulsed  with  mirth. 
It  was  as  if  an  anti-Semite  were  to  propose  to  go 
and  disport  himself  in  Jewry.  There  was  no 
doubt  that  the  public  would  buy  and  read  any  book 
on  Scotland  which  he  might  publish.  Boswell 
knew  both  his  country  and  his  friend  too  well  to 
fear  that  any  real  injustice  would  be  done  to  a 
great  and  good  people.  His  apprehension  was  of 
a  quite  different  kind.  He  feared  that  Johnson 
might  never  bring  himself  to  write  the  book.  John- 
son was  known  to  be  lazy.  Something  must  be 
done  about  it. 

Johnson  left  Scotland  on  the  twenty-second  of 
November,  and  Boswell  accompanied  him  as  far 
as  Blackshields,  fourteen  miles  on  the  road  from 
Edinburgh  to  London.  There  they  passed  the 
night  at  an  inn.  The  next  morning  Boswell  saw 
his  venerable  companion  safe  into  the  fly  for  New- 
castle. On  the  same  day  he  addressed  a  letter  to 
Henry  Thrale,  which  begins  as  follows :  — 

I  had  the  pleasure  to  receive  a  few  lines  from  you 
in  August  when  you  enclosed  a  letter  to  Mr.  Johnson 
under  cover  to  me.  Since  that  time  our  much-respected 
friend  and  I  have  had  a  long  and  very  curious  tour, 
of  which  his  letters  have,  I  suppose,  given  you  and 
Mrs.  Thrale  a  pretty  full  account.  The  world,  how- 
ever, I  hope,  will  have  a  still  fuller  account  from  him. 
I  hope  you  and  Mrs.  Thrale  will  not  be  wanting  in 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  209 

keeping  [him]  in  mind  of  the  expectations  which  he  has 
raised.  ...  I  flatter  myself  that  he  shall  have  no 
cause  to  repent  of  his  northern  expedition. 

The  ostensible  reason  for  writing  this  letter  to 
Thrale  was  to  forward  a  letter  to  Miss  Anna  Wil- 
liams, Johnson's  blind  housekeeper,  which  he  had 
forgotten  to  send  by  Johnson;  but  the  vital  pur- 
pose is  visible  to  him  who  runs.  Boswell  would 
not  lose  a  day  before  he  began  the  application  of 
that  stimulus  which  was  necessary  if  the  world 
was  ever  to  get  the  story  of  Johnson's  journey  to 
the  western  islands  of  Scotland.  Throughout  the 
winter,  therefore,  he  continued  to  keep  Johnson 
mindful  of  his  original  plan,  for  he  well  knew  the 
great  man's  capacity  for  forgetting  a  definite  liter- 
ary task.  In  response  to  a  question  which  John- 
son asked  him  about  the  order  of  the  clans,  he 
wrote :  "I  like  your  little  memorandums ;  they  are 
symptoms  of  your  being  in  earnest  with  your  book 
of  northern  travels."  As  late  as  the  next  April  he 
wrote  to  David  Garrick :  "  I  hope  Mr.  Johnson  has 
given  you  an  entertaining  account  of  his  northern 
tour.  He  is  certainly  to  favour  the  world  with 
some  of  his  remarks.  Pray  do  not  fail  to  quicken 
him  by  word,  as  I  do  by  letter." 

All  this  goading  was  not  administered  merely 
for  the  glory  of  Samuel  Johnson,  or  the  vindication 
of  Scotland.     There  was  certainly  some  thought 


210  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

of  the  reputation  whlcli  Boswell  would  acquire  as 
the  projector  of  the  entire  expedition  and  the 
chosen  companion  of  the  author.  When  the  book 
appeared,  he  found  a  pleasant  reference  to  himself 
in  the  first  paragraph,  as  a  "companion  whose 
acuteness  would  help  his  Inquiry,  and  whose  gaiety 
of  conversation  and  civility  of  manners  are  suffi- 
cient to  counteract  the  Inconvenlencles  of  travel 
in  countries  less  hospitable  than  we  have  passed." 
This  was  gratifying,  of  course ;  but  the  book  as  a 
whole  failed  to  satisfy  Boswell.  He  had  had  the 
highest  expectations.  "He  Is  certainly  to  give 
the  world  some  account  of  his  tour  to  the  High- 
lands and  Hebrides,"  he  had  written  to  Langton 
before  the  publication  of  the  book;  "he  will  not 
only  entertain  more  richly  than  an  ordinary  trav- 
eller, but  will  furnish  instruction  on  a  variety  of 
subjects."  And  so  Indeed  he  did,  for  the  "Journey 
to  the  Western  Islands  of  Scotland"  Is  a  fine  per- 
formance. But  it  may  be  doubted  whether  a  book 
produced  at  the  Instigation  of  another  Is  ever  quite 
satisfactory  to  its  "only  begetter."  When  the 
book  appeared,  Boswell  at  once  wrote  to  Johnson 
in  its  praise :  "The  more  I  read  your  Journey,  the 
more  satisfaction  I  receive.  ...  I  can  hardly 
conceive  how,  in  so  short  a  time,  you  acquired  the 
knowledge  of  so  many  particulars."  And  yet  that 
knowledge  was  not  perfect.     A  native  Scot,  with 


THE  BOSW^LL  JOURNALS  211 

a  keen  eye  and  a  well-stored  journal  of  his  own, 
could  detect  In  the  book  a  multitude  of  minor 
errors,  and,  what  was  more  important,  a  number 
of  lost  opportunities  to  entertain  the  general  reader. 
He,  therefore,  with  a  naivete  characteristic  of  him, 
as  if  the  mere  truth  were  the  only  matter  to  be 
considered,  sat  down  and  wrote  out  a  series  of 
"Remarks  on  the  Journey  to  the  Western  Islands 
of  Scotland,"  in  which  he  not  only  pointed  out 
errors,  but  made  suggestions  here  and  there  re- 
specting the  improvement  of  the  diction.  His 
comments  are  too  extensive  to  be  reprinted  entire ; 
the  following  specimens  may  serve  as  typical. 

P.  256,  at  the  bottom.  Is  it  right  to  change  the 
tense .f*  "is  labouring"  .  .  .  "arose.'^ 

Your  reflections  on  Highland  learning,  on  the  Bards, 
and  on  Ossian  amount  to  Demonstration ;  only  on  page 
274  if  any  can  he  found  might  have  been  omitted ;  for  I 
take  it  to  be  certain  that  some  wandering  Ballads  are 
inserted  in  Fingal.  And  on  page  275,  you  are  mistaken 
in  telling  "it  was  never  said  that  any  of  them  could 
recite  six  lines."  Some  of  them  do  actually  recite 
many  more. 

P.  277,  1.  13.  A  triffling  inaccuracy.  We  did  not 
leave  Sky  in  a  boat  that  was  taking  in  kelp.  It  was 
a  boat  from  Hay,  in  which  a  Gentleman  had  come  in 
quest  of  an  emigrant  who  owed  him  money.  But  be^ 
fore  he  came  the  emigrant  was  sailed.  On  the  same 
page  you  treat  the  storm  too  lightly.  Col  and  all 
the  islanders  thought  we  were  really  in  danger. 


212  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

I  observe  you  sometimes  write  Erse  and  sometimes 
Earse ;  one  or  other  only  must  be  right. 

P.  286,  1.  8,  for  Brecaeig  —  Breacachach. 

P.  296  (erroneously  printed  2^6).  This  page  I  be- 
lieve will  make  me  yet  go  to  the  popish  islands.  But 
I  must  have  instructions  from  you  in  writing. 

Of  the  reception  of  this  document  by  the  Sage 
we  have  no  account,  but  it  may  safely  be  left  to 
the  reader's  imagination.  Boswell  ultimately  went 
so  far  as  to  propose  to  publish  a  sort  of  supplement 
to  the  "Journey"  ;  but,  after  his  trip  to  London  in 
the  spring  of  1775,  this  amazing  plan  was,  happily, 
dropped.     In  May  he  wrote  to  Temple :  — 

I  have  not  written  out  another  line  of  my  "Remarks 
on  the  Hebrides."  I  found  it  impossible  to  do  it  in 
London.  Besides,  Dr.  Johnson  does  not  seem  very 
desirous  that  I  should  publish  any  supplement.  Be- 
tween ourselves,  he  is  not  apt  to  encourage  one  to 
share  reputation  with  himself.  But  don't  you  think  I 
may  write  out  my  remarks  in  Scotland,  and  send  them 
to  be  revised  by  you,  and  then  they  may  be  published 
freely  ? 

Such  was  the  origin  of  the  "Journal  of  a  Tour  to 
the  Hebrides  with  Samuel  Johnson,  LL.D.,"  per- 
haps the  sprightliest  book  of  travels  in  the  lan- 
guage. A  decade  was  to  elapse,  and  Johnson  to 
pass  away,  ere  the  publication  of  the  book;  but 
Boswell  had  his  reward  for  fulfilling  the  Horatian 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  213 

principle  of  delay.  The  lapse  of  time  enabled  him 
to  publish,  not  a  supplement  to  Johnson's  book, 
but  an  independent  volume,  in  which  he  was  not 
to  "share"  Johnson's  fame  as  a  writer  of  travels, 
but  totally  to  eclipse  it.  Moreover,  the  death  of 
his  eminent  companion  enabled  him  to  cast  all 


Johnson,  the  Bear,  with  Boswell,  in  Scotland 
From  a  contemporary  caricature 

restraint  aside  and  to  print,  as  literally  as  he  chose 
to  do,  the  diary  which  he  had  kept  during  the  tour. 
Of  this  diary  and  of  the  "Tour  to  the  Hebrides" 
he  speaks  in  identical  terms.  Once  only  (under 
date  of  September  4)  does  he  speak  of  suppressing 
material  in  the  diary. 

This   diary   had,   as   it   were,   the   approval  — 
though  by  no  means  the  imprimatur  —  of  Samuel 


214  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Johnson.  He  was  well  acquainted  with  Boswell's 
journal-keeping  habits,  and  had  often  seen  him  at 
work  upon  it.  After  reading  it,  he  made  the  re- 
mark that  it  was  a  very  exact  picture  of  a  portion 
of  his  life.  We  have  Boswell's  word  for  it  that 
Johnson  was  also  aware  of  his  intention  to  produce 
a  biography  of  him.  And  yet  to  assert  all  this  is 
not  to  say  that  Johnson  ever  conceived  of  the 
possibility  of  Boswell's  printing  the  journal  as  it 
stood.  Print  the  journal !  He  would  as  soon 
have  permitted  Reynolds  to  paint  him  in  a  state 
of  nature. 

When,  in  1785,  the  "Tour"  appeared,  Johnson 
had  been  in  his  grave  nearly  a  twelvemonth ;  but 
though  he  was  not  alive,  to  protest  in  person,  his 
friends  protested  for  him.  Nothing  like  it  had 
ever  been  read.  It  became  at  once  a  standard  of 
indiscretion.  To  compare  it  with  the  autobio- 
graphical revelations  made,  in  our  own  day,  by 
the  wife  of  a  former  Prime  Minister  of  Great  Brit- 
ain would  be  to  adduce  but  a  feeble  parallel.  Bos- 
well  calmly  recorded  Johnson's  casual  remarks 
about  everybody  he  had  met.  Lord  Errol,  for 
example,  was  told  that  the  pillows  on  his  bed  had 
a  disagreeable  smell.  Lord  Monboddo  was  still 
alive,  to  read  Johnson's  contemptuous  opinion  of 
his  theory  of  man's  descent  from  monkeys,  and 
was  told  that  he  was  "as  jealous  of  his  tail  as  a 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  215 

squirrel.'*  He  might  also  read  that  Johnson 
disapproved  of  his  round  hat,  and  considered  him  a 
fool  for  calling  himself  "Farmer  Burnet."  The 
Macaulay  family  were  informed  that  Johnson 
said  he  did  not  believe  that  the  Reverend  Kenneth 
Macaulay  (or  M'Auley)  of  Calder  was  capable  of 
writing  the  "History  of  St.  Kilda's"  which  had 
appeared  under  his  name  —  a  slight  which  Tre- 
velyan,  writing  nearly  a  century  later,  still  found 
it  impossible  to  pardon.  The  insult  to  Sir  Alex- 
ander McDonald  ("I  meditated  an  escape  from 
this  house  the  very  next  day;  but  Dr.  Johnson 
resolved  that  we  should  weather  it  out  till  Mon- 
day") and  that  to  the  famous  Duchess  of  Hamilton 
are  too  well  known  to  need  repetition.  When 
Rowlandson  and  CoUings  published  their  popular 
series  of  caricatures  of  the  "Tour,"  one  plate  rep- 
resented Boswell  as  "revising  for  a  second  edition," 
while  Sir  Alexander,  brandishing  a  stick,  stands 
over  him  as  he  tears  out  certain  pages  of  the  book. 
In  the  second  edition  Boswell  did,  indeed,  make 
certain  alterations  in  the  interests  of  discretion, 
and  spoke  of  a  "few  observations"  which  "might 
be  considered  as  passing  the  bounds  of  a  strict 
decorum";  but  enough  remained  to  require  the 
revision  of  every  principle  of  decorum  of  which 
the  eighteenth  century  had  ever  conceived. 

In  October,  a  friend  of  Bishop  Percy's  wrote  to 


216  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

him  about  the  book,  remarking,  "I  have  been 
amused  at  it,  but  should  be  very  sorry  either  to 
have  been  the  author  or  the  hero  of  it."  A  pam- 
phlet in  the  form  of  a  letter  to  Boswell  was  written 
by  a  penny-a-liner  calling  himself  "Verax,"  in 
which  he  said :  "You  have  forced  upon  the  Public 
a  six-shilling  book  replete  with  small  talk  and  ill- 
natured  remarks."  This  wretched  hack  professed 
to  fear  that  the  public  would  soon  "have  volume 
upon  volume  of  coffee-house  chit-chat  or  amorous 
tete-d-tetes."  A  satire,  entitled  "A  Poetical  Epistle 
from  the  Ghost  of  Dr.  Johnson  to  his  Friends," 
contains  the  following  lines :  — 

O  ne'er  shall  I  our  curious  jaunt  forget ; 
When,  hungry,  cold,  sleepy,  fatigu'd  and  wet. 
On  musty  hay  we  vainly  sought  repose.  .  .  . 
How  oft  I  mark'd  thee,  like  a  watchful  cat, 
List'ning  to  catch  up  all  my  silly  chat ; 
How  oft  that  chat  I  still  more  silly  made. 
To  see  it  in  thy  common-place  conveyed ! 

So  much  for  the  attack  of  Boswell's  enemies. 
But  his  friends  were  scarcely  less  of  a  burden  to 
him.  He  was  deluged  with  a  Niagara  of  advice, 
urging  him  to  be  more  cautious.  One  page,  in 
particular,  roused  the  dismay  of  everyone  who 
had  known  Johnson.  This  was  the  sheet  of  ad- 
vertisement at  the  end,  in  which  Boswell  an- 
nounced to  the  public  that  he  was  at  work  upon  a 
biography  of  Johnson,  that  he  had  been  collecting 


•5     Q 

i     3 


s      5      'X 


=( 


3 


O 
2i 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  217 

materials  for  twenty  years,  and  that  the  book 
would  include  "several  curious  particulars,"  as 
well  as  "the  most  authentick  accounts  that  can 
be  obtained  from  those  who  knew  him  best." 

Johnson's  acquaintances  were  seized  with  alarm. 
What  would  be  their  fate  in  the  new  book?  If 
Boswell  had  created  so  great  a  disturbance  in 
Scotland  by  his  account  of  three  months  in  John- 
son's life,  what  would  be  the  result  in  England 
when  he  published  a  history  of  the  whole  seventy- 
five  years  of  it  ?  Fanny  Burney,  as  we  have  seen, 
refused  her  assistance,  and  wrote  in  her  "Diary  "  : 
"  I  feel  sorry  to  be  named  or  remembered  by  that 
biographical,  anecdotical  memorandummer  till 
his  book  of  poor  Dr.  Johnson's  life  is  finished  and 
published."  One  of  his  best  friends,  Sir  William 
Forbes,  who  was  later  to  be  appointed  one  of  his 
literary  executors,  took  umbrage  at  the  fact  that 
Boswell  had  quoted  his  approval  of  the  journal, 
before  it  was  in  print,  and  took  the  liberty  of 
"strongly  enjoining  him"  to  be  more  careful  about 
personalities  in  the  later  work. 

But  Boswell  was  not  dismayed.  He  had  the 
solid  satisfaction  of  seeing  two  large  editions  of 
the  "Tour"  devoured  by  the  eager  public.  He 
might,  indeed,  have  gone  too  far  in  certain  in- 
stances. He  answered  his  critics,  in  the  second 
edition,  by  charging  them  with  a  failure  to  under- 


218  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

stand  the  true  motive  of  his  recording  anecdotes 
which  were  sometimes  to  his  own  disadvantage, 
the  objections  to  which  he  saw  as  clearly  as  did 
they.  "But  it  would  be  an  endless  task,"  he  con- 
tinued, "for  an  authour  to  point  out  upon  every 
occasion  the  precise  object  he  has  in  view.  Con- 
tenting himself  with  the  approbation  of  readers 
of  discernment  and  taste,  he  ought  not  to  com- 
plain that  some  are  found  who  cannot  or  will  not 
understand  him.*' 

It  may  be  doubted  whether  such  attacks  as  Bos- 
well  suffered  ever  really  injure  a  book.  The  in- 
discretions which  shocked  the  nerves  of  the  eight- 
eenth century  have  lost  something  of  their  tang  in 
the  passage  of  the  years;  but  the  naive  charm  of 
the  book  remains.  More  than  any  work  of  Bos- 
well's  it  preserves  the  freshness  and  authenticity 
of  his  journals.  If  one  of  the  objects  of  literature 
be  to  mirror  human  association  and  companion- 
ship when  at  their  fullest  and  most  zestful,  then 
this  book  must  ever  be  accorded  a  very  high  rank. 
It  has  a  unity  and  an  intimacy  denied  even  to  the 
great  "Life  of  Johnson"  ;  for  the  geographical  iso- 
lation of  the  Hebrides,  and  the  limitation  of  the 
account  to  a  single  period  in  the  life  of  the  man 
recorded,  render  it,  if  possible,  a  more  vivid  book 
than  the  biography,  which  is,  inevitably,  more 
diffuse.     Moreover,  it  has  the  advantage  of  de- 


THE  BOSWELL  JOURNALS  219 

picting  Johnson  in  an  unusual  environment,  likely 
to  stimulate  his  powers  of  observation  and  lend 
point  and  colour  to  his  remarks.  It  tells  the  story 
of  a  long  holiday ;  and  it  has,  therefore,  the  mirth 
and  abandon  of  spirit  characteristic  of  two  friends 
whose  chief  aim,  at  the  moment,  is  to  have  a  good 
time.  All  that  is  most  likable  in  Boswell  appears, 
and  all  that  is  depressing  —  his  melancholy,  for 
instance  —  takes  flight  from  its  cheerful  pages. 
It  is  the  happiest  of  books,  and  it  has  lost  none  of 
its  original  power  of  rendering  its  readers  happy, 
too. 


CHAPTER  X 
THE  MAGNUM  OPUS 

There  is  a  certain  kind  of  reader  who  vexes 
himself  and  teases  the  critic  with  the  question 
whether  the  author  of  a  great  classic  really  put 
into  it  all  that  an  enthusiastic  reader  asserts  that 
he  finds.  Is  it  a  conscious  art,  or  has  all  the 
greatness,  all  the  subtlety  and  meaning  of  it,  been 
thrust  upon  it  by  the  critic?  A  suspicious  reader 
can  usually  be  set  right  by  passages  in  which  the 
author  himself  has  spoken  of  his  art.  A  critic  is 
as  little  likely  to  see  more  than  he  was  intended  to 
see  as  a  stream  is  likely  to  rise  above  its  source. 
If  anybody  doubts  whether  Boswell  meant  to  pro- 
duce the  effects  for  which  he  is  famous,  let  him 
gather  up  everything  that  the  man  said  about  his 
art,  about  Johnson's  theory  of  biography,  and, 
above  all,  everything  that  he  said  about  his  own 
books,  and  he  will  convince  himself  that  Boswell's 
effects  were  all  calculated. 

I  have  analysed  elsewhere  the  characteristics 
which,  in  my  opinion,  distinguish  the  "Life  of 
Johnson,"  and  account  for  the  supreme  position 
to  which  it  has  been  universally  assigned.  That 
analysis  I  do  not  propose  to  repeat.     It  may  suf- 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  221 

fice  to  say  that  Boswell's  general  notion  was  to 
defy  the  very  powers  of  obhvion  and  to  preserve 
his  friend  as  complete  and  as  vivid  as  he  had  been 
in  the  flesh.  With  a  sufficient  amount  of  assi- 
duity from  a  sufficient  number  of  people,  such  a 
result,  he  thought,  might  almost  have  been  at- 
tained. Perhaps  he  was  right.  Perhaps,  on  the 
other  hand,  he  failed  to  reckon  with  the  fact  that 
not  everyone  who  might  feel  inclined  to  record  Dr. 
Johnson  had  the  genius  of  a  Boswell  for  doing  it. 
In  all  Boswell's  complacent  references  to  him- 
self, in  the  whole  range  of  his  pomposity  and  self- 
conceit,  he  never  once  called  himself  that  which  in 
fullest  truth  he  was  —  a  genius.  I  doubt  whether 
Boswell  ever  guessed  that  he  was  a  genius.  His 
fault  was  vanity  —  conceit,  if  you  will  —  rather 
than  pride.  I  mean  that  he  loved  to  talk  about 
himself,  loved  to  dream  of  becoming  a  "great 
man,"  strutted  and  put  on  airs,  but  never,  so 
far  as  I  am  aware,  really  overestimated  his  own 
powers  or  his  own  achievement.  He  was  modest 
in  his  own  despite,  though  having  no  intention 
whatever  of  being  so.  In  the  group  of  quotations 
about  the  "Life  of  Johnson"  that  follow,  there  is 
much  vanity,  and  a  great  deal  more  of  self-asser- 
tion than  there  should  be ;  but  there  is  nothing  in 
all  his  references  to  himself  that  can  for  a  moment 
compare  with  Macaulay's  famous  summary,   to 


£22  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

which,  I  fancy,  every  critic  would  now  assent: 
*' Homer  is  not  more  decidedly  the  first  of  heroic 
poets,  Shakespeare  is  not  more  decidedly  the  first 
of  dramatists,  Demosthenes  is  not  more  decidedly 
the  first  of  orators,  than  Boswell  is  the  first  of  biog- 
raphers. He  has  no  second.  He  has  distanced 
all  his  competitors  so  decidedly  that  it  is  not  worth 
while  to  place  them.  Eclipse  is  first,  and  the  rest 
nowhere."  And  again,  "He  has,  in  an  important 
department  of  literature,  immeasurably  surpassed 
such  writers  as  Tacitus,  Clarendon,  Alfieri,  and  his 
own  idol  Johnson."  Had  Boswell  read  such  sen- 
tences as  these  about  himself  he  would  have 
swooned  with  amazement. 

The  three  passages  which  I  here  adduce  were  all 
written  in  the  early  months  of  the  year  1788.  The 
first  is  from  a  letter  to  Bishop  Percy,  thanking  him 
for  the  assistance  which  he  had  given. 

Procrastination,  we  all  know,  increases  in  a  propor- 
tionate ratio  the  diflBculty  of  doing  that  which  might 
have  once  been  done  very  easily.  I  am  really  uneasy  to 
think  how  long  it  is  since  I  was  favoured  with  your 
Lordship's  communications  concerning  Dr.  Johnson, 
which,  though  few,  are  valuable,  and  will  contribute 
to  increase  my  store.  I  am  ashamed  that  I  have  yet 
seven  years  to  write  of  his  life.  I  do  it  chronologically, 
giving  year  by  year  his  publications,  if  there  were  any ; 
his  letters,  his  conversations,  and  every  thing  else  that 
I  can  collect.     It  appears  to  me  that  mine  is  the  best 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  223 

plan  of  biography  that  can  be  conceived  ;  for  my  readers 
will,  as  near  as  may  be,  accompany  Johnson  in  his 
progress,  and,  as  it  were,  see  each  scene  as  it  happened. 
I  am  of  opinion  that  my  delay  will  be  for  the  advan- 
tage of  the  work,  though  perhaps  not  for  the  advantage 
of  the  author,  both  because  his  fame  may  suffer  from 
too  great  expectation,  and  the  sale  may  be  worse  from 
the  subject  being  comparatively  old.  But  I  mean  to  do 
my  duty  as  well  as  I  can. 

Some  six  weeks  later  he  wrote  to  Temple :  — 

Mason's  "Life  of  Gray"  is  excellent,  because  it  is 
interspersed  with  letters  which  show  us  the  Man.  His 
"Life  of  Whitehead"  is  not  a  Life  at  all;  for  there  is 
neither  a  letter  nor  a  saying  from  first  to  last.  I  am 
absolutely  certain  that  my  mode  of  biography,  which 
gives  not  only  a  history  of  Johnson's  visible  progress 
through  the  world,  and  of  his  publications,  but  a  view 
of  his  mind,  in  his  letters  and  conversations,  is  the  most 
perfect  that  can  be  conceived,  and  will  be  more  of  a  Life 
than  any  work  that  has  ever  yet  appeared. 

In  April  he  wrote  to  Miss  Anna  Seward  (the 
"Swan  of  Lichfield"),  in  reference  to  the  various 
works  on  Johnson  that  had  appeared :  Hawkins's 
"Life,"  Mrs.  Thrale's  "Anecdotes,"  her  "Letters 
of  Samuel  Johnson,"  Tyers's  biographical  sketch, 
Towers's  essay,  "Last  Words  of  Samuel  Johnson," 
and  "More  Last  Words'* :  — 

What  a  variety  of  publications  have  there  been  con- 
cerning Johnson.     Never  was  there  a  man  whose  repu- 


224  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

tation  remained  so  long  in  such  luxuriant  freshness  as 
his  does.  How  very  envious  of  this  do  the  "little 
stars"  of  literature  seem  to  be,  though  bright  them- 
selves in  their  due  proportion.  My  Life  of  that  illus- 
trious man  has  been  retarded  by  several  avocations,  as 
well  as  by  depression  of  mind.  But  I  hope  to  have  it 
ready  for  the  press  next  month.  I  flatter  myself  it  will 
exhibit  him  more  completely  than  any  person,  ancient 
or  modern,  has  yet  been  preserved,  and  whatever  merit 
I  may  be  allowed,  the  world  will  at  least  owe  to  my 
assiduity  the  possession  of  a  rich  intellectual  treasure. 

It  will  be  seen  from  the  last  sentence  that  Bos- 
well  made  a  distinction  in  his  own  mind  between 
the  importance  of  the  principles  which  he  had  dis- 
covered and  the  particular  biography  which  he 
had  written;  and  in  drawing  this  distinction  the 
present  writer  may  hope  to  avoid  the  charge  of 
inconsistency.  Boswell  had  full  confidence  in  the 
method  which  he  had  adopted,  and  counted  on  it 
to  help  him  write  "more  of  a  Life  than  any  that 
has  ever  yet  appeared" ;  but  that  he  had  not  only 
found  the  method  but  also  written  the  classic  ex- 
ample of  it,  —  that  he  was,  to  speak  temperately, 
as  illustrious  a  writer  as  Johnson,  —  this,  luckily, 
he  did  not  see.  Plainly,  it  is  of  his  *' assiduity" 
rather  than  his  genius  that  he  boasts. 

To  Boswell,  I  suppose,  the  task  seemed  to  make 
a  special  demand  upon  one's  assiduity.     The  work 


/ 


i.  MW 


7"//^  Biographers 

(  Mrs.  Piozzi,  Jolm  Coiirtenay,  Boswell ) 

Beneatli  tlie  enjfravini;  in  the  orig'inal,  dated  "Jan.  17S(), .).  Cornell,  Bruton  Street,' 
appears  tlie  I'ollowins  travesty  of  Dryden's  famous  lines  under  a  portrait  of  Milton  : 

Three  Authors  in  three  Sister  Kingdoms  horn 
The  Shrine  of  .lohnson  witli  their  Works  adorn. 
The  lirst  a  female  Friend  with  letter'il  I'ride 
Bares  those  Defects  whieli  Friendship  ou^ht  to  hide. 

B 11  to  Genius  ^ives  a  Monster's  Air 

.And  shews  his  Johnson  as  Men  shew  a  Bear. 

C y  to  Merit  as  to  Grammar  true, 

Blurs  with  bad  Verse  the  Worth  he  never  knew. 
O  lould  the  Sajre  whose  Fame  employs  their  Pen 
Visit  his  great  Biographers  again, 

His  two  good  Friends  would  And  him  d d  unciv  il, 

And  he  would  drive  the  Poet  to  the  Devil. 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  225 

that  had  required  genius  (which,  let  me  add,  is  a 
great  deal  more  than  an  infinite  capacity  for 
taking  pains)  was  over  and  done  with.  Boswell's 
genius,  as  distinct  from  mere  industry,  had  exhib- 
ited itself  in  originating  such  a  plan  and  in  the 
whole  conception  of  Johnson  as  the  hero  of  a  drama 
of  almost  national  proportions ;  in  his  realisation 
of  the  importance  and  interest  of  Johnson's  talk, 
and  in  getting  it  on  paper.  He  was  annoyed,  as 
every  author  is,  by  the  people  who  were  afraid 
of  him,  afraid  that  he  *' might  put  them  in  a  book." 
People  hesitated  to  meet  him  after  the  publication 
of  the  "Life,"  and  wondered  whether  their  every 
word  would  be  written  down  by  this  deputy  of  the 
Recording  Angel.  He  had  something  like  a  quarrel 
with  his  friend.  Sir  William  Scott,  because  that 
gentleman,  in  inviting  him  to  dine,  had  seen  fit  to 
caution  him  not  to  embarrass  the  guests  by  writing 
down  their  conversation.  Bos  well  thereupon  de- 
clined the  invitation.  Sir  William  wrote  to  him, 
explaining  the  "principle"  of  his  request,  and 
apparently  pointed  out  that  the  persons  who 
feared  to  meet  Boswell  were  thinking  of  the  lot  of 
the  minor  characters  in  the  "Life,"  who  had 
served  only  as  foils  to  Johnson.  Boswell,  in  ac- 
cepting the  apology,  made  the  following  declara- 
tion of  his  own  principles,  which,  it  will  be  seen, 
was  intended  as  a  sort  of  official  utterance. 


226  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

If  others,  as  well  as  myself,  sometimes  appear  as 
shades  to  the  Great  Intellectual  Light,  I  beg  to  be 
fairly  understood,  and  that  you  and  my  other  friends 
will  inculcate  upon  persons  of  timidity  and  reserve,  that 
my  recording  the  conversation  of  so  extraordinary  a 
man  as  Johnson,  with  its  concomitant  circumstances, 
was  a  peculiar  undertaking,  attended  with  much 
anxiety  and  labour,  and  that  the  conversations  of  people 
in  general  are  by  no  means  of  that  nature  as  to  bear 
being  registered,  and  that  the  task  of  doing  it  would  be 
exceedingly  irksome  to  me.  Ask  me,  then,  my  dear 
Sir,  with  none  but  who  are  clear  of  a  prejudice  which 
you  see  may  easily  be  cured.  I  trust  there  are  enough 
who  have  it  not. 

It  is  clear  from  this  that  Boswell  deemed  himself 
more  than  a  mere  realist  who  was  registering  life 
just  as  it  is.  It  was  not  sufficient  to  make  records. 
It  was  essential  first  to  find  your  "great  intellec- 
tual light."  That  was  the  work  of  genius,  as  it 
was  the  work  of  genius  to  conceive  the  tremendous 
plan  of  letting  the  reader  accompany  Johnson  on 
his  "progress  through  life." 

But  the  task  of  taking  infinite  pains  remained. 
Boswell  was  almost  submerged  by  his  own  mate- 
rial, not  to  speak  of  the  material,  good  and  bad, 
that  poured  in  upon  him,  every  scrap  of  which 
must  be  tested  for  its  authenticity  as  well  as  for  its 
inherent  interest.    The  marvel  is  that  he  did  not 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  227 

give  up  the  task.    Indeed,  the  thought  occurred 
to  him,  for  he  wrote  to  Temple :  — 

You  cannot  imagine  what  labour,  what  perplexity, 
what  vexation,  I  have  endured  in  arranging  a  prodi- 
gious multiplicity  of  materials,  in  supplying  omissions, 
in  searching  for  papers  buried  in  different  masses  — 
and  all  this  besides  the  exertion  of  composing  and 
polishing.  Many  a  time  have  I  thought  of  giving  it  up. 
However,  though  I  shall  be  uneasily  sensible  of  its 
many  deficiencies,  it  will  certainly  be  to  the  world  a  very 
valuable  and  peculiar  volume  of  biography,  full  of  lit- 
erary and  characteristical  anecdotes  (which  word,  by 
the  way,  Johnson  always  condemned  as  used  in  the 
sense  that  the  French,  and  we  from  them,  use  it,  as 
signifying  'particulars),  told  with  authenticity  and  in  a 
lively  manner.  Would  that  it  were  in  the  booksellers' 
shops.  Methinks,  if  I  had  this  Magnum  Opus 
launched,  the  publick  has  no  farther  claim  upon  me. 

One  of  the  evidences  of  the  greatness  of  the  book 
is  the  fact  that  so  little  has,  in  the  course  of  a  hun- 
dred and  thirty  years,  been  added  to  our  informa- 
tion about  Johnson.  If  we  except  Miss  Burney's 
"Diary,"  which  Boswell  tried  in  vain  to  tap,  no 
record  of  first-rate  interest  and  no  really  novel  view 
of  Johnson  have  been  discovered.  Dr.  Hill  pub- 
lished two  volumes  of  "Johnsonian  Miscellanies," 
uniform  with  the  "Life,"  which,  if  they  serve  no 
other  purpose,  cause  the  work  of  Boswell  to  shine 
by  contrast.     Every  scrap  about  Johnson  has  been 


228  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

gathered  up  and  given  to  the  world,  —  I  have  my- 
self taken  part  in  the  work,  —  and  the  world  has 
quite  properly  neglected  it,  preferring  Boswell. 

Immediately  after  the  appearance  of  the  "Tour" 
Boswell  began  his  preparations  for  writing  the 
"Life."  His  first  task  was  to  collect  Johnson's 
letters  and  such  reminiscences  of  him  as  seemed 
authentic.  He  made  application  by  letter  to 
Bishop  Percy,  the  Reverend  Dr.  Adams  of  Oxford, 
Francis  Barber  (who  had  in  his  possession  papers 
of  the  highest  value  to  a  biographer  of  Johnson), 
Anna  Seward,  and,  no  doubt,  to  a  score  of  others. 
The  material  which  he  received  from  such  con- 
tributors he  often  wrote  down  in  their  presence, 
or  revised  the  written  record  in  their  presence.  It 
is  to  be  regretted  that  we  have  no  account  of  any 
of  these  sessions,  for  they  would  have  revealed 
the  biographer  at  one  of  his  most  characteristic  and 
important  tasks,  which  must  have  exercised  all  the 
powers  of  insinuation  and  tact  which  he  possessed. 

He  thought  at  first  that  he  could  finish  the  book 
by  the  spring  of  1789 ;  but  the  care  of  Auchinleck, 
the  death  of  Mrs.  Boswell  in  the  early  summer, 
and  his  ill-advised  candidacy  at  the  General  Elec- 
tion for  an  ad  interim  membership  in  Parliament, 
conspired  to  prevent  it.  Moreover  there  was  his 
"master,"  Lord  Lonsdale,  upon  whom  it  was  neces- 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  229 

sary  to  dance  attendance  and  who  frequently  sum- 
moned Boswell  to  his  table  to  provide  amusement 
(of  no  literary  kind)  for  his  retainers  or  "  Ninepins." 

Yet,  in  spite  of  all  interruptions,  he  had  nearly 
completed  the  first  draft  before  the  year  was  out, 
and  by  February,  1790,  he  could  say  that  it  was 
fairly  in  the  press.  The  printers  of  the  eighteenth 
century  were  a  long-suffering  generation.  They 
actually  began  the  printing  of  a  book  before  the 
author  had  completed  the  manuscript.  When 
they  had  received  enough  copy  to  fill  up  a  sheet, 
the  type  was  set,  and  proofs  were  pulled  and  sent 
to  the  author  for  correction.  When  he  returned 
them,  the  sheet  was  printed  and  folded,  and  the 
type  in  the  form  distributed.  The  printer's  devil 
hovered  between  the  compositors  and  the  author, 
bearing  proofs  hot  from  the  press  and  appeals  for 
more  copy.  It  is  only  by  imagining  such  a  state 
of  affairs,  alien  enough  from  those  of  our  day,  that 
we  can  understand  the  circumstances  of  Boswell's 
life  in  1790  and  1791,  when  his  "great  work"  was 
passing  through  the  press  before  he  himself  had 
completed  the  rough  draft  of  it.  He  gasped  some- 
times at  its  ever-increasing  magnitude,  and  baulked 
at  first  at  the  thought  of  two  volumes. 

His  chief  assistant  in  the  work  —  a  man  who  has 
never  received  his  due  for  his  generous  and  friendly 
service  —  was  Edmond  Malone,  the  Shakespearean 


230  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

scholar.  Malone,  as  a  member  of  the  Literary- 
Club,  had  known  Johnson.  He  respected  Bos- 
well's  genius.  The  friendship  of  the  two  men  is 
said,  by  a  somewhat  doubtful  anecdote,  to  have 
been  cemented  (if  not  actually  formed)  in  1785, 
in  the  printing-house,  where  Boswell  found  Malone 
examining  with  admiration  one  of  the  proof-sheets 
of  the  "Tour  to  the  Hebrides."  Malone's  labours 
on  the  *'Life'*  began  with  the  revision  of  the  rough 
draft  of  the  manuscript,  which  Boswell  read  aloud 
to  him  in  the  quiet  of  Malone's  *' elegant  study." 
Of  the  copy  that  was  sent  to  the  printer  no  sheet 
is  known  to  exist ;  but  we  have  two  sets  of  proof- 
sheets,  both  of  which  were  scanned,  in  whole  or  in 
part,  by  Malone. 

These  proof-sheets  are  a  fascinating  study. 
Their  owner,  Mr.  R.  B.  Adam  (a  Johnsonian 
scholar  of  no  mean  standing)  has  repeatedly  pro- 
vided me  with  opportunities  for  examining  them. 
The  first  of  the  two  sets  covers  only  224  pages  of 
the  first  volume,^  of  which  three  signatures  (I,  K, 
and  L)  are  lacking.  The  set  consists  exclusively 
of  the  sheets  for  which  Boswell  had  demanded  a 
second  "revise,"  or  corrected  proof;  so  that  the 
lack  of  the  three  signatures  may  merely  indicate 
that,  in  these  cases,  no  revision  was  asked  for  — 

^  The  references  are  to  the  first  edition  of  the  Life,  Lon- 
don, 1791. 


Edmond  Ma/one 

EiisniN  ins  by  J.  Scott,  from  a  portrait  b.\-  Sir  .losliiia  Reynolds 

'I'll  is  famous  Sliakespeareaii  comim'iitator.a  member  of  the  Literary  Club,  remh'reil 

Bos\\  ell  invaluable  aid  in  preparing  tlie  manuscript  and  reading  the  proofs  of  the 

Life,  of  \vhich  he  annotated  four  later  editions 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  231 

that  is  to  say,  that  Boswell  had  but  one  proof  of 
those  particular  sheets.  This  entire  set  of  proof- 
sheets  is  quite  new  to  the  world  of  scholars,  though 
it  may  have  been  known  to  "collectors"  in  Eng- 
land.    Mr.  Adam  acquired  it  in  March,  1920. 

The  other  set  of  proof-sheets,  bought  for  £127 
by  the  elder  Adam  in  1893,  is  practically  complete. 
These  proofs  were  sold  when  the  Auchinleck 
library  was,  in  part,  dispersed ;  they  passed  from 
the  hands  of  the  salesmen,  Messrs.  Sotheby,  Wil- 
kinson and  Hodge,  to  Mr.  Adam,  who  added  them 
to  his  already  famous  collection  of  Johnsoniana 
and  Boswelliana  in  Buffalo.  There  they  were 
examined  by  the  great  editor  of  the  "Life,"  Dr. 
George  Birkbeck  Hill,  whose  study  of  them  may 
be  found  in  the  first  volume  of  "Johnson  Club 
Papers,"  published  by  Mr.  Fisher  Unwin  in  1899. 
This  set  of  proof-sheets  also  lacks  one  or  two  sig- 
natures, —  why,  I  do  not  know,  —  the  loss  of 
which  has  been  made  good  by  the  insertion  of  the 
corresponding  pages  from  the  first  edition. 

Whether  still  other  proof-sheets  may  be  found, 
it  is  difficult  to  say.  Certainly  there  was  never 
more  than  one  complete  set.  One  or  two  more  of 
the  earlier  sets  of  "revises"  will  probably  turn  up ; 
but  there  is,  I  think,  no  great  doubt  that  Mr. 
Adam's  library  now  contains  most  of  the  proof- 
sheets  that  ever  existed.     It  is  probable  that,  as 


232  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Boswell  progressed  in  his  work,  not  more  than  one 
proof  was  necessary.  One  sheet  in  the  set,  marked 
as  approved  for  the  printer,  bears  the  message  in 
the  compositor's  or  "corrector's"  hand,  "More 
copy,  please"  —  a  plain  indication  that  only  one 
proof  was  then  being  shown. 

Apart  from  merely  verbal  changes  in  the  in- 
terests of  style,  the  important  alterations  in  these 
proof-sheets  are  of  two  kinds  :  (1)  insertion  of  new 
matter  in  the  text;  and  (2)  excision  of  "old" 
matter,  already  set  up  in  type.  Of  these  the 
latter  is  by  far  the  more  important.  We  are  not 
specially  interested  to  know  when  a  given  para- 
graph or  sentence  was  introduced  into  the  work; 
whereas  a  suppressed  passage  may  —  nay,  prob- 
ably does  —  contain  information  more  piquant 
than  that  of  the  context,  and  may  give  us  new 
facts.  For  example,  it  is  not  significant  to  know 
that  the  paragraph  about  Johnson's  faith  in  the 
supernatural  ^  was  an  insertion  after  the  printing 
had  begun ;  but  it  is  interesting  to  read  Boswell's 
opinion  of  Goldsmith's  attire,  which  was  first  in- 
serted, and  then  struck  out:  "His  dress  [was] 
unsuitably  gawdy  and  without  taste."  In  writ- 
ing of  Mr.  Wedderburn's  Scotch  dialect,  it  is  first 
said,  "Though  his  voice  produce  not  a  silver  tone, 
but  rather  a  hard  iron  sound,  if  that  expression 
^Life,  first  edition,  vol.  1,  p.  219. 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS 


233 


may  be  used."    This  remark  Boswell  struck  out  of 
the  proof  as,  presumably,  too  personal. 

But,  in  general,  the  excisions  are  remarkably 
few.  The  additions  are  much  more  numerous, 
and  are  usually  put  in  to  lend  colour  and  variety. 
For  example,  when  Dr.  Adams  suggested  to  John- 
son that  he  engage,  as  assistant  in  a  projected  task, 
the  French  Dr.   Maty,   Boswell  wrote,   at  first : 

)F    DR.   JOtfNSONi 

jr  even  widiouj  thought.    His  perft)n  was 
'IwN  his  deportment  that  of  a  ^hgjar  auk- 


to  fo 

ftimces  of  it  are  Hardly  credible.     When 

«g  lidies  with  their  mother 'on  a  tour  in 

c  more  -attention  waspaid  'to  thern^than  to 

uaal  uitk^  of  the  /ii^^^rf^/j^a^Si^thofc 

tat  dexterity**  puppet  was^i^de  to  tols  a  /-^ 

lould  have  fuch'praifc>  •!»<■  exclaimed  with 
better  mTfelf." 
,ed  fyftem  of  any  fort,  ib  that' hi?  conduft 
oiit  his  aficftions  were  focial  and  generdi^i^' 
Tcepredoininated  over  his_attention  to.trutK^ 

"Johnson  declared  his  disapprobation  of  this  in 
contemptuous  tones";  but  altered  it  to  read: 
"*He'  (said  Johnson),  'the  little  black  dog!  I'd 
throw  him  into  the  Thames.'"  Here  evidently 
was  a  remark  which  Boswell  decided,  on  second 
thoughts,  it  was  safe  to  risk.  So,  again,  the  illus- 
trations of  odd  definitions  in  Johnson's  Dictionary 
were  added  in  the  first  proof. 

The  writing  on  the  proof-sheets  is  in  at  least  four 
different    hands.     Boswell's    own    comments    are 


T  H  £ 

L         I         F 

O  F 

SAMUEL     J  O  H  N  S  O  U     LL.D. 


To  wrtcc  the  life  of  him  who  excelled  all  mankind  in  writing  the 
lives  of  others,  and  who,  whetlier  we  conflder  his  extiaordiniry  endow- 
menu,  or  his  various  works,  has  been  equalled  by  few  in  any  ag(^ 
is  an  arduous,  and  may  be  leckonea  in  me  a  prefumptuous  t^flt. 

Had  Dr.  Johnfon  written  his  own  life,  in  oonfoncity  with  the  opinion  whicfc 
lie^as  given',  that  every  man's  life  may  be  bcft  written  byhimfelf ;  had  he 
cti^iloyed  in  the  prefeivation  of  hijpwn  hifloryj  ^at  clearnefe  of  oarratiob 
•and  elegance  of  lan^dge  in  which  he  has  embalfned  ^  many  eminent  pcr- 
ixa,  the  worid  would  probably .  have  had  the  moll  perftft  example  of 
biography  that  was  ever  exhibited.  But  although  he  at  different  times,  in  a 
defulipry  manntfr,  committed  to', writing  many  particulars  of  the  progrefs  of 
^lis  mind  and  fortunes,  |ie  never  had  perfevering  diligence  enough  to  form 
ihem  ;nto  a  regular  compofition.  Df  thefe  mcn:Qrials  a  few  have  been 
pietrved  i  but  the  greater  part' was  configned  by  him  lo  the  flames,  a  few 
days  before  his'de^th.  '  ."    ,      -   .   ,         '    i.    ' 

A^  1  H»d  the.  honour  ^nd  .b^pineis  of  enjoying  his  fricndlhip  for  upwards 
«fi twenty  yearsj  as  I  had  the  fchenne  of  writing  his  life  eonllantly  in  view; 
^^Wtfwas  well  appriftd  of  this  eirctimllance,  and  from  tirne  to  time  obligingly 
'^tisfitd  4py  ioquiii^sj  by  communicating  to  rtie  the  incidents  of  his  early 
,)rcan ;  «3  I  dc^ulied  a  facility  io  recollefting,  and  wss  very  aflid'ioiu  in 


^4V^?k/ni^ 


recording 


Proqf-sheet  of  the  "  Life, ^''  first  revise 


A'DVERtlSEMENT. 

pafTage  here  and  there,  have  agreed  that  they  could  not  help  going 
ihrough,  and-bcing  entertained  through  the  whole.  I  wi(h,  indeed, 
fomc  ftw  groft-expreffions  had  been  foftened,  and  a  few  of  our  hero's 
foibles  had  been  a  little  more  (haded  j  but  irjmfcful  to  fee  the  weak- 
nefTes  incident  to  great  minds ;  and  you  have  givca  US  Dr.  Johnfon  s 
authority  that  in  hiftory  all  ought  to  be  told." 

Such  a  faiiBion  to  my  f,iai!ly  of  givii'S  a  jtiji  rlpTrfaiistion  of  Dr. 
hnjiji  I  could  not  conceal ff 


^    A 


ALPMAEETJiCAL 


Proof-sheet  of  the  "  Lfe  "  ;  /«.vi  j3trg-e  o/'//«e      Advertisement^^ 
or  Preface,  first  revise 


236  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

not  infrequently  of  that  highly  personal  character 
which  distinguishes  whatever  he  did  —  "  Let  me 
have  another  Revise  sent  to  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds's 
in  Liecester  [sic]  Square,  where  I  dine,  and  it  shall 
be  returned  instantly."  "I  am  sorry  the  com- 
positor has  so  much  trouble."  "I  shall  see  this 
at  the  Printing  house  to-morrow  morning  before  it  is 
thrown  off.  Tuesday."  "This  Remains  till  an  an- 
swer comes  from  Dr.  Warton."  Few  books  have  been 
read  for  the  printer  with  more  scrupulous  care. 

Malone  saw  the  proof-sheets  of  three  quarters  of 
the  book.  His  advice  was  generally  intended  to 
make  the  style  smoother.  For  example,  on  page 
84,  he  writes  of  Johnson's  poem,  "Friendship," 
which  Boswell  had  introduced  without  sufficient 
explanation,  "Something  sh-  be  s-  about  its  ap- 
pearing in  this  year  &  having  been  given  by  Mr. 
Hector."  On  page  124,  he  comments,  "Too 
abrupt" ;  and  adds  a  sentence  of  his  own,  to  serve 
as  introduction  to  Dr.  Johnson's  letter  to  Birch. 
By  an  odd  error  Dr.  Birkbeck  Hill  assumed  that 
Malone's  handwriting  was  that  of  the  "corrector" 
at  the  printing-house,  and  thus  he  missed  the  sig- 
nificance of  some  of  the  corrections.  It  was 
Malone,  for  example,  who  suggested  to  Boswell 
that  he  should  suppress  the  mention  of  Johnson's 
hands  as  "not  over-clean,"  in  the  famous  scene 
which  depicts  Johnson  as  squeezing  lemons  into  a 


THE  MAGNUM  OPUS  237 

punch-bowl,  and  calling  out,  "Who 's  for  poonsh  ?  " 
*"He  must  have  been  a  stout  man,'  said  Garrick, 
*who  would  have  been  for  it.'"  This  remark,  too, 
was  cancelled  at  the  same  time. 

Five  of  the  signatures  (or  folded  sheets  of  eight 
pages)  are  marked  by  Malone  as  approved  for  the 
press.  These  are  Rr  -  Xx,  and  they  contain  no 
corrections  in  Boswell's  hand.  I  judge  that  they 
were  corrected  by  Malone  during  some  illness  or 
indisposition  of  Boswell's.  It  is  to  be  feared  that 
the  joy  of  seeing  his  book  in  proof  sometimes  led 
our  Boswell  to  convivial  indulgence  in  port,  which 
made  the  correction  of  his  pages  well-nigh  im- 
possible. At  any  rate,  signature  H  (pages  49-56) 
shows  plain  evidence  of  such  incapacity:  for  he 
has  made  four  attempts  to  alter  "the  scantiness 
of  his  circumstances"  to  "Johnson's  narrow  cir- 
cumstances," and  has  barely  succeeded  on  the 
fourth  attempt. 

After  November,  1790,  Boswell  had  no  further 
help  from  Malone,  who  was  obliged  to  go  to  Ire- 
land. A  third  hand  appears  in  the  proof-sheets 
when  Malone's  is  no  longer  found.  It  may  be  that 
of  Mr.  Selfe,  the  "corrector"  at  the  printing-office, 
but  I  do  not  think  so ;  for  Selfe  read  the  proof- 
sheets  after  they  were  returned  by  the  author. 
The  hand  I  cannot  identify,  but  it  is  that  of  a 
learned  man. 


238  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

Some  day  there  will  probably  be  found  a  copy 
of  the  "Life"  more  interesting  than  any  which  is 
at  present  known  to  exist.  I  refer,  of  course,  to 
Boswell's  own  copy.  It  may  perhaps  still  be  in 
the  possession  of  the  representatives  of  the  Bos- 
well  family.  I  do  not  know.  The  Boswell  family 
have  persistently  repulsed  all  scholars  who  have 
had  the  temerity  to  apply  to  them  for  assistance. 
But  they  have  already  sold  Boswell's  own  copy  of 
the  "Tour,"  which  is  said  to  contain  annotations 
by  the  author  on  nearly  every  page.  When  the 
author's  copy  of  the  "Life,"  is  found,  his  annota- 
tions will  enable  some  future  critic  of  Boswell  to 
complete  this  history  of  the  composition  of  that 
work.  Meanwhile,  the  reader  no  doubt  feels  that 
he  has  already  had  enough. 


BOSWELL 

^/>     OF      ^J 

'BosrwtW  s  StaL  or  Bookplate 


CHAPTER  XI 
THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK 

I  HAVE  called  this  book  "Young  Bos  well"  be- 
cause it  seemed  to  me  that  the  spirit  which  imbued 
his  entire  literary  work  was  essentially  youthful. 
Even  in  the  role  of  hero-worshipper,  —  a  simple 
conception  of  him  which  has  satisfied  many  critics, 

—  there  is  something  of  youth  and  its  illusions. 
When  Boswell  was  at  his  best,  there  were  present 
in  him  the  qualities  associated  with  youth,  —  con- 
fidence, buoyancy,  hope,  and  an  appetite  for  ex- 
perience, —  as  well  as  the  common  faults  of  youth 

—  self-indulgence  and  self-esteem.  It  may  seem 
presumptuous  to  add,  at  the  end  of  a  book  devoted 
to  a  study  of  this  youthful  spirit,  a  final  chapter 
on  the  latter  years.  They  are  not  a  pleasant  study. 
In  them  Boswell  felt  the  swift  retributions  of 
middle  age ;  but  he  kept  until  the  very  end,  much 
of  the  boy  about  him.  He  was  always  expecting 
some  happy  turn  of  fortune  or  some  revocation 
of  the  edict  of  destiny.  As  the  misfortunes  of 
his  middle  age  crowded  upon  him,  he  murmured 
at  his  lot ;  yet  there  was,  had  he  been  able  to  real- 
ise it,  a  relentless  consistency  in  his  sufferings,  for 


240  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

they  all  sprang  from  an  over-indulgence  in  his 
peculiar  pleasures. 

One  of  these  was  a  passion  for  London,  the  like 
of  which  Johnson  himself  averred  that  he  had 
never  seen.  Had  Boswell  been  willing  to  live 
quietly  at  Auchinleck  during  nine  months  of  the 
year,  visiting  the  metropolis  only  during  "the 
season,"  except  when  he  was  engaged  in  putting 
some  literary  work  through  the  press,  a  very  dif- 
ferent end  might  have  been  his.  But  the  old  fire 
raged  in  his  veins.  He  felt  it  necessary  to  transfer 
his  residence  to  England,  to  send  his  sons  to  Eton 
and  Westminster,  respectively,  and  to  educate 
his  daughters  in  the  ways  of  London  society,  erad- 
icating every  trace  of  the  Edinburgh  manner. 

The  first  steps  towards  this  were  made  possible 
by  the  death,  in  August,  1782,  of  Lord  Auchinleck. 
Boswell  was  thereafter  free  from  the  restraints 
imposed  upon  him  by  a  querulous  and  dissatisfied 
father.  But  he  was  not  happy  in  his  inheritance 
of  the  great  estates  at  Auchinleck.  He  had  em- 
barrassed himself  by  debts,  contracted  in  his 
father's  lifetime,  which  were  now  a  burden  upon 
the  estate  and  a  serious  reduction  of  the  income 
from  it.  He  might  perhaps  have  relieved  himself 
by  alienating  some  of  the  recently  acquired  prop- 
erty, had  he  not  taken  as  much  pride  as  ever  in 
being  a  member  of  the  landed  gentry  and  in 


The  Master  of  Auchiiilecli 
Ensravintc  b.\  K.  Fiiidon,  from  a  portrait  by  Sir  Josluia  Ko>  iiolds 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     241 

having  "a  hundred  men  at  his  back."  It  might 
be  desirable  to  go  and  live  in  London  with  men  of 
genius,  but  it  was  imperative,  also,  to  preserve  all 
the  lustre  of  the  Master  of  Auchinleck.  Unhap- 
pily, the  income  from  the  place  was  not  adequate 
to  all  the  demands  upon  it.  In  1789,  Boswell  con- 
fessed to  Temple  that,  though  the  rent-roll  was 
above  £1,600,  the  payment  of  annuities  and  inter- 
est on  debts,  together  with  necessary  expenses  on 
the  estate  itself,  reduced  his  income  to  about  £850, 
and  of  this,  in  turn,  he  had  to  spend  £500  on  his 
five  children. 

To  live  in  London,  moreover,  had  necessitated 
something  very  like  a  change  of  profession.  When 
he  was  well  over  forty  years  of  age,  the  fulfilment 
of  his  ambition  to  be  an  English  barrister  com- 
pelled him  to  qualify  for  admission  to  the  English 
bar,  like  a  youngster  in  his  twenties,  by  residing  a 
certain  number  of  terms  in  the  Temple  and  study- 
ing the  manifold  differences  between  English  and 
Scottish  law.  These  differences  are,  of  course,  ap- 
palling ;  and  Boswell,  at  any  rate,  never  mastered 
them.  Although  he  was  called  to  the  English 
bar  in  the  Hilary  term  of  1786,  and  for  a  time  cher- 
ished the  hope  of  getting  some  briefs,  —  if  not  in 
London,  on  the  York  circuit,  —  it  took  but  three 
years  to  dispel  all  his  illusions.  In  1789,  he  wrote 
to  Temple :  — 


242  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

I  am  in  a  most  illegal  situation ;  and  for  appearance 
should  have  cheap  chambers  in  the  Temple,  as  to 
which  I  am  still  inquiring;  but  in  truth  I  am  sadly  dis- 
couraged by  having  no  practice,  nor  probable  prospect 
of  it.  And  to  confess  fairly  to  you,  my  friend,  I  am 
affraid  that  were  I  to  be  tried,  I  should  be  found  so 
deficient  in  the  forms,  the  quirks  and  the  quiddities  which 
early  habit  acquires,  that  I  should  expose  myself.  Yet 
the  delusion  of  Westminster  Hall,  of  brilliant  reputation 
and  splendid  fortune  as  a  barrister,  still  weighs  upon 
my  imagination.  I  must  be  seen  in  the  courts,  and 
must  hope  for  some  happy  openings  in  the  causes  of 
importance. 

All  this  was  most  deplorable,  because  it  meant 
not  only  a  failure  to  acquire  a  new  profession,  but 
the  complete  disuse  of  the  old  one.  When  Bos- 
well's  father  died,  the  younger  man  had  still  a 
respectable  practice,  and  one  which  was  suscep- 
tible of  considerable  development.  But  it  was  all 
sacrificed  to  the  charms  of  London. 

One  of  the  distressing  evidences  of  human  blind- 
ness is  our  inability,  not  only  to  appreciate  our 
blessings,  but  even  to  know  that  we  have  them. 
Boswell  longed  all  his  days  for  fame,  and  fame  was 
given  to  him,  in  rich  measure,  and  of  a  kind  des- 
tined to  grow  rather  than  decline  with  the  years. 
Yet  at  the  very  moment  that  he  was  known  to 
every  reader  in  England  as  the  author  of  the  "Tour 
to  the  Hebrides,'*  he  was  babbling  to  Temple  about 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     243 

the  joys  of  Westminster.  The  greatest  biographer 
who  ever  hved  longed,  with  a  juvenile  longing,  to 
be  James  Boswell,  M.P. 

Of  Boswell's  unsuccessful  attempts  to  get  into 
Parliament  —  that  is,  of  his  relations  with  that 
hateful  and  unscrupulous  politician.  Lord  Lons- 
dale —  I  propose  to  say  nothing.  It  is  a  record  of 
boot-licking  by  Boswell,  on  which  I  do  not  care 
to  dwell.  As  I  make  no  pretension  to  writing  his 
biography,  I  am  happily  released  from  the  neces- 
sity of  following  him  into  passages  of  his  life  which 
are  neither  amusing  nor  profitable,  and  which 
are  of  no  value  in  revealing  the  origin  or  quality 
of  his  genius. 

But  there  was  one  activity  of  his  closing  years 
which  has  only  recently  been  revealed,  and  which 
displays  Boswell  in  a  new  capacity,  with  duties 
which  he  discharged,  so  far  as  one  can  judge,  skil- 
fully and  kindly.  A  number  of  letters  have 
recently  come  to  light  which  show  us  that  the 
Master  of  Auchinleck  was  a  just  and  generous 
landlord.  Most  of  them  were  addressed  to  An- 
drew Gibb,  the  young  factor  on  the  Auchinleck 
estate,  and  they  were  placed  in  my  hands  by  Mr. 
James  Gibb  of  Wembley,  his  great-grandson  and 
last  direct  descendant.  In  a  letter  in  which  he 
courteously  gave  me  permission  to  copy  these  docu- 
ments, Mr.  James  Gibb  told  me  that  he  had  the 


244  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

papers  from  his  aunt,  herself  a  granddaughter  of 
the  factor,  who,  however,  desired  "to  remain 
anonymous."  **She  is  old-fashioned  enough," 
adds  Mr.  Gibb,  "to  be  rather  jealous  of  the  repu- 
tation of  the  biographer,  and  I  think  her  intention 
in  voluntarily  placing  these  letters  at  your  disposal 
is  to  show  him  in  the  role  of  a  landed  proprietor 
who,  by  endeavouring  to  be  strict  as  well  as  just, 
realised  his  responsibilities  to  his  family  and  his 
tenants." 

As  the  last  of  Andrew  Gibb's  daughters  lived 
until  about  1890,  it  is  clear  that  we  have,  in  this 
opinion,  a  reliable  family  tradition  regarding  Bos- 
well  during  the  thirteen  years  in  which  he  directed 
the  affairs  of  Auchinleck. 

This  tradition  is  borne  out  by  the  evidence  in 
the  letters.  Considered  merely  as  letters,  they  are, 
of  course,  devoid  of  interest,  but  they  do  show 
us  a  man  dealing  with  a  work  to  which  he  is  com- 
petent, and,  though  financially  embarrassed,  yet 
in  general  just,  compassionate,  and  attentive  to 
detail. 

The  following  may  serve  as  a  specimen :  — 

London,  4  Juncy  1791. 
Andrew,  — 

You  have  done  very  well  as  to  the  cattle  and  sheep ; 
and  you  will  remit  the  proceeds  by  a  bill,  that  I  may  dis- 
tribute the  cash. 


v^v 


o 


"^     1 


o 
a 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     245 

As  to  Andrew  Arnot,  he  seems  to  be  in  woeful  cir- 
cumstances. But  I  incline  to  indulge  him  so  far  as 
not  to  sell  his  cattel,  and  in  short  to  try  if  he  can 
recover. 

As  to  George  Paton,  I  am  sorry  to  see  him  falling 
back  so.  He  has  a  cautioner  for  five  years'  rents,  and 
if  he  does  not  pay  up  equally  with  the  rest,  I  mean  his 
Whitsunday  money  rent  and  Candlemas  meal,  let  him 
be  proceeded  against ;  and  if  he  fails  to  pay,  proceed 
against  his  cautioner.  But  do  not  deal  harder  with 
him  than  with  others ;  I  mean,  let  his  Martinmas  rent 
remain  unpaid  till  I  come  home  in  August. 

Let  me  add  as  to  Andrew  Arnot,  that  if  he  suffers  his 
cattle  to  trespass,  and  if  there  be  an  appearance  of  much 
debt  to  others  besides  me,  his  stock  and  crop  should  be 
secured  for  my  behoof. 

I  think  John  Lindsay  in  Skilburn  a  good  man,  and 
therefore  accept  of  his  proposal  of  six  pounds  for  the 
grass  crop,  with  liberty  to  dig  the  yards  so  far  as  not  in 
grass.  That  is,  I  believe,  about  his  old  rent ;  for  he 
paid  one  rent  to  me  and  the  other  to  the  original  ten- 
ant's widow. 

However  ill  Andrew  Dalrymple  has  behaved,  I  re- 
lent, and  you  will  act  in  terms  of  my  note  at  the  foot 
of  his  letter,  which  I  enclose. 

Let  Archibald  Steel  know  that  I  cannot  judge  of  his 
case  till  I  see  his  farm.  But  neither  he  nor  any  one 
else  upon  my  estate  has  reason  to  fear  that  I  will  be  a 
hard  master. 

I  recollect  no  more  at  present,  but  remain 

Your  wellwisher, 

James  Boswell. 


246  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

It  is  clear  that  Andrew  Gibb  was  not  obliged  to 
be  the  kind  of  factor  that  was  known  to  Robert 
Burns  in  the  same  county  a  very  few  years  before, 
and  that  James  Boswell  was  not  the  kind  of  ab- 
sentee landlord  who  disgraces  the  pages  of  British 
history.  The  letters  to  Andrew  are  full  of  human 
touches  and  of  vivid  glimpses  of  Auchinleck  —  a 
fallen  tree,  the  encroachments  of  the  river  Lugar, 
the  collapse  of  "a  large  part  of  the  old  house," 
dear  to  Boswell  as  "an  old  acquaintance."  "I  am 
sorry  for  David  Murdock's  heavy  losses.  Be  easy 
with  him.  How  is  my  young  Muirland  pony 
thriving.'*" 

There  is  a  far-away  echo  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion, which  Boswell  deems  it  necessary  to  put 
down  by  any  means  ready  to  his  hand  :  — 

What  does  John  Stirling  mean  by  apprehending 
commotions.''  Bad  people  attempted  to  raise  them 
here.  But  the  wise  and  worthy  majority  have  united 
so  firmly  that  all  fear  is  over.  In  case  any  seditious 
deceitful  writings  have  been  dispersed  in  our  neigh- 
bourhood, I  send  you  two  copies  of  Judge  Ashurst's 
"Charge"  and  "One  Pennyworth  of  Truth,"  which 
may  be  posted  up  in  smithy's  and  lent  about.  Paste 
one  of  Judge  Ashurst's  "  Charges  "  in  the  office,  that  all 
the  tenants  may  see  it. 

On  May  31,  1793,  he  writes  the  following  inter- 
esting sentence  which,  if  the  purpose  expressed  in 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     247 

it  had  been  carried  out,  would  have  filled  his  life 
with  new  interests  and  saved  him,  perhaps,  from 
the  dissipation  into  which  he  was  sinking.  "Next 
month  I  am  going  abroad  on  a  tour  of  Holland  and 
Flanders  and  to  pass  some  time  with  the  com- 
bined armies."  His  intention,  in  other  words, 
was  to  go  and  visit  the  Austrian  and  British  allies 
in  their  attack  upon  the  towns  of  Northern  France, 
and  to  be  present  at  the  siege  of  Valenciennes.  If 
he  could  have  gone,  what  a  volume  of  reminis- 
cences he  would  have  written !  He  would  have 
met  everybody  in  the  allied  camp,  and  we  should 
have  had  the  pleasure,  not  only  of  listening  to 
their  conversation,  but  of  reading  of  all  Boswell's 
emotions  in  tempore  belli,  while  he  surveyed  the 
battle  from  afar. 

But  in  June  he  was  attacked  and  robbed  while 
he  was  drunk,  his  head  was  cut,  and  he  was  knocked 
about  in  a  very  sad  fashion,  so  that  he  was  confined 
to  his  bed  with  pain  and  fever  for  many  days.  He 
was  still  determined  to  go,  however,  when  he  wrote 
to  Andrew  Gibb  on  the  third  of  July.  Towards 
the  end  of  that  month  he  paid  a  visit  to  his 
friend  Bennet  Langton,  at  Warley,  where  Lang- 
ton  was  a  major  in  the  Royal  North  Lincolnshire 
militia.  But  the  old  enthusiasm  was  gone ;  he  did 
not  stay  out  his  visit,  and  candidly  owned  to  his 
old  friend  that  he  had  had  enough  of  a  camp. 


248  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

On  his  return  to  London  he  wrote  :  — 

In  my  convalescent  state,  another  disturbed  night 
would  have  hurt  me  much. 

0  London !  London !  there  let  me  be ;  there  let  me 
see  my  friends ;  there  a  fair  chance  is  given  for  pleasing 
and  being  pleased.  .  .  . 

1  hesitate  as  to  Valenciennes,  though  I  should  only 
survey  a  camp  there.     Yet  my  curiosity  is  ardent. 

But  his  recovery  was  slow,  as  may  be  seen  from 
the  following  letter  to  Sir  Michael  le  Fleming, 
Baronet. 

London,  81  July  179S. 
My  dear  Sir,  — 

Your  kind  desire  to  hear  from  me  flattered  me  much, 
and  I  should  sooner  have  written  to  you,  but  could  not 
communicate  what  I  know  you  would  wish  to  know, 
my  perfect  convalescence.  I  am  not  yet  free  from  the 
consequences  of  the  villainous  accident  which  befell  me, 
being  feeble,  and  not  in  my  right  spirits.  Pouriant  il 
va  bien.  I  met  at  the  Circuit  at  Chelmsford  our  friend 
Bailey  Heath,  who  desired  I  would  present  his  compli- 
ments to  you.  Indeed,  as  you  love  your  friends,  your 
friends  love  you. 

London  is,  I  think,  emptier  at  present  than  I  ever 
saw  it.  This  moment  I  have  had  the  agreable  news 
that  Valenciennes  has  surrendered.  I  shall  celebrate  it 
today  at  the  Mess  of  the  Life  Guards,  where  I  dine 
soberly,  as  I  must  do  at  present.  Were  you  in  London, 
your  superexcellent  Claret  should  flow. 

The  second  edition  of  my  "Life  of  Dr.  Johnson"  (in 
which  I  have  paid  a  just  compliment  by  name  to  your 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     249 

honour)  is  come  out,  and  goes  off  wonderfully.     I  ever 

am,  with  most  sincere  regard  for  my  dear  Sir  Michael, 

Your  attached  friend  and  faithful  humble  servant, 

James  Boswell. 

The  reader  may  think  what  he  likes  of  Boswell's 
associations  with  Sir  Michael,  for  nothing  is  known 
of  them ;  but  it  is  to  be  feared  that  they  were  not 
altogether  admirable.  The  superexcellent  claret 
and,  no  doubt,  the  superexcellent  port  that  flowed 


^  J^a^^?^-^-^  J^'^^^-^Cyr^^^^^        ^r» 


Inscription  in  a  Presentation  Copy  of  the  second  edition 
of  the  "Life'' 

SO  freely  in  his  house  were  not  calculated  to  develop 
the  genius  of  James  Boswell.  He  was  courting  ill- 
ness and  disaster,  for,  as  he  approached  the  end, 
he  was  drunk  very  often.  He  was  the  victim  of 
sorry  jests,  with  which  readers  of  the  later  and  sad- 
der years  of  his  biography  are  sufficiently  familiar. 
In  February,  1795,  he  tells  Andrew  Gibb  how  he 
had  had  his  pocket  picked  of  a  letter  and  a  handker- 


250  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

chief  —  doubtless  when  he  was  in  such  a  condition 
as  to  be  ignorant  of  what  was  going  on  about  him. 
But  the  end  was  now  not  far  distant. 

His  essential  gaiety  of  disposition  never  de- 
serted him.  About  a  fortnight  before  his  last  ill- 
ness seized  him,  he  wrote  in  his  usual  buoyant  way 
to  a  new  flame,  Lady  Orkney,  a  countess  in  her 
own  right,  and  nearly  two  years  a  widow.  She  had 
met  him  at  the  estates  of  her  late  husband  at 
Taplow,  and  had,  apparently,  told  him  that  he  was 
"gallant  and  gay."  He  is  now  desirous  of  "waiting 
upon  her,"  for  she  had  promised  him  mutton  at 
Clifden.  "I  only  say,  do  not  hastily  engage  your- 
self.    I  am  your  Ladyship's  warm  admirer." 

From  his  sick  bed  he  dictated  a  letter  to  Warren 
Hastings,  congratulating  him  on  his  "honourable 
acquittal,"  and  assuring  him  that,  as  soon  as  he 
might  be  able  to  "go  abroad,"  he  would  fly  to  him, 
"and  expand  his  soul  in  the  purest  satisfaction." 
Of  Hastings  he  had  seen  something  since  the  be- 
ginning of  "the  magnificent  farce,"  and  he  was,  of 
course,  an  ardent  sympathiser.  In  the  letter  to 
Hastings  Boswell  told  how  his  physician,  Dr. 
Warren,  gave  him  the  pleasing  assurance  that  his 
sufferings  were  nearly  at  an  end.  On  the  "assur- 
ances" given  to  the  sick,  who  shall  rely.?^  Our 
Boswell  was  indeed  nearing  the  end.  He  wrote  no 
more  letters.     He  died  on  the  nineteenth  of  May, 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     251 

three  days  after  the  anniversary  of  his  first  meeting 
with  Johnson. 

During  these  latter  years,  his  chief  Hterary  occu- 
pation was  the  revision  of  the  "Life  of  Johnson," 
and  the  third  edition  was  far  advanced  towards 
pubKcation  when  the  author's  death  occurred.  To 
the  reader  who  knows  the  many  excesses  into  which 
he  fell,  the  wonder  is  that  he  lived  to  complete  and 
publish  a  work  of  such  epic  proportions  as  the 
"Life."  After  it  was  safely  "out,"  he  not  un- 
naturally relaxed  his  ambitions,  and  was  content 
to  bask  in  the  reputation  which  it  made  for  him. 
The  desire  of  completing  it  had  pulled  him  through 
many  fits  of  hypochondria ;  but  when  the  task  was 
once  done,  he  had  no  ambition  left  for  the  other 
books  which  it  had  once  been  his  hope  to  write. 
That  he  could  not  bring  himself  to  undertake  them 
has  cost  him  dear,  for  it  has  meant  that  his  repu- 
tation has  been  well-nigh  submerged  by  that  of  the 
man  whose  life  he  wrote.  In  various  odd  ways 
critics  have  tried  to  deprive  him  of  all  right  to  his 
reputation.  I  have  a  friend  who  once  told  me  that 
he  was  engaged  in  reading  the  "Life  of  Johnson," 
but  skipping  every  reference  to  Boswell  himself  — 
"Boswell  without  Boswell,"  as  he  put  it.  This, 
I  should  suppose,  must  have  been  a  more  dismal 
experience  than  reading  "Hamlet"  without  the 
Prince. 


252  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

And  then  there  have  been  "selections"  from  the 
great  book,  —  as  if  part  of  its  greatness  did  not 
reside  in  its  very  magnitude,  —  and  countless  other 
attempts  to  conceal  the  artist  who  wrought  the 
work  and  who,  with  all  his  merits,  certainly  never 
aspired  to  that  of  self-obliteration.  But  at  last 
the  tide  has  turned.  The  world  has  wearied  of 
preaching  at  Boswell,  and  has  consented  to  enjoy 
him.  But  the  supremacy  of  his  position  would 
have  been  clearer,  though  it  could  hardly  have 
been  surer,  if  he  had  completed  some  of  the  other 
works  which  he  had  in  mind. 

The  literary  projects  which  he  formed  from  time 
to  time  were  numerous.  He  planned  an  essay  in 
appreciation  of  Addison's  poetry,  and  a  history  of 
King  James  IV,  of  Scotland,  whom  he  styles  "the 
patron  of  my  family."  He  planned  a  life  of  Thomas 
Ruddiman,  the  classical  scholar.  We  have  seen 
that  he  intended  to  publish  his  reminiscences  of 
Hume,  and  to  do  a  biography  of  Sir  Alexander 
Dick.  One  of  his  less-known  plans  was  to  write  a 
series  of  stories  for  children.  When  he  was 
twenty-three  years  old,  he  bought  a  volume  of 
chap-books,  containing  the  stories  of  Jack  and  the 
Giants,  Doctor  Faustus,  Guy  of  Warwick,  Johnny 
Armstrong,  and  others,  and  wrote  the  following  in- 
scription in  it :  — 


THE  IVIASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     253 

Having,  when  a  boy,  been  much  entertained  with 
Jack  the  Giant-Killer,  I  went  to  the  Printing  Office  in 
Bow  Churchyard  and  bought  this  collection.  I  shall 
certainly  some  time  or  other,  write  a  little  Story  Book 
in  the  style  of  these.  I  shall  be  happy  to  succeed,  for 
he  who  pleases  children  will  be  remembered  by  men.^ 

Reference  has  already  been  made  to  his  wish, 
expressed  as  late  as  1791,  to  recount  his  travels  on 
the  Continent  and  his  conversations  with  the 
Great.  "I  can  give  an  entertaining  narrative," 
he  said  to  Johnson  regarding  this  project,  "with 
many  incidents,  anecdotes,  jeux  d' esprit,  and  re- 
marks, so  as  to  make  very  pleasant  reading." 

No  less  interesting  was  his  plan  for  writing  the 
history  of  the  invasion  of  Bonny  Prince  Charlie 
in  '45,  which  he  wished, magniloquently,  to  call  the 
''History  of  the  Civil  War  in  Great  Britain  in  1745 
and  1746."  Once,  when  he  and  Johnson  were 
nearing  the  town  of  Derby,  he  observed  that  they 
were  that  day  to  stop  just  where  the  Highland 
army  did  in  1745.  "It  was  a  noble  attempt," 
said  Johnson,  who  was,  sentimentally,  as  much  of 
a  Jacobite  as  was  Boswell  himself.  "I  wish  we 
could  have  an  authentick  history  of  it,"  said  Bos- 
well; to  which  Johnson  replied,  "If  you  were  not 

1  Catalogue  of  Messrs.  Sotheby,  Wilkinson,  and  Hodge 
(Sale  of  the  Auchinleck  Collection,  1893),  p.  7. 


254  YOUNG  BOSWELL 

an  idle  dog,  you  might  write  it,  by  collecting  from 
everybody  what  they  can  tell,  and  putting  down 
your  authorities."  At  that  time  (1777)  Boswell 
resolved  to  carry  out  the  suggestion.  Four  years 
before,  he  and  Johnson  had  met  Flora  Macdonald 
in  the  Hebrides,  and  had  heard  from  her  own  lips 
the  story  of  Prince  Charles's  escape  from  Scotland, 
after  the  disasters  in  the  south.  If  the  account 
which  Boswell  records  in  the  *'Tour  to  the  Heb- 
rides" is  a  specimen  of  the  kind  of  information  he 
could  still  pick  up,  it  is  to  be  regretted  that  he  did 
not  pursue  his  original  intention ;  for  he  would  not 
only  have  preserved  facts  which  would  have  been 
of  value  to  historians,  but  would  have  written  a 
book  as  interesting  as  a  novel  of  Walter  Scott's. 

But  when  all  such  regrets  are  recorded,  it  must 
be  admitted  that  there  is,  perhaps,  no  permanent 
loss ;  for  such  works,  had  they  been  written,  would 
but  have  served  to  set  off  the  other.  They  would 
have  been  the  foil  to  the  "Life."  The  splendour 
of  that  book  is  in  no  danger  of  being  forgotten. 
Perhaps,  as  the  years  pass,  the  chief  danger  to  which 
it  is  exposed  is  that  of  being  talked  about  rather 
than  read.  But  it  has  seemed  to  me  that  some- 
thing might  be  said  in  proof  of  the  essential  amia- 
bility of  the  man  who  had  the  genius  to  write  it  — 
a  man,  who  with  all  his  weaknesses  was  cheerful 
and  gay,  always  eager  for  the  punch-bowl  to  be 


THE  MASTER  OF  AUCHINLECK     255 

brought  out  and  the  talk  to  begin ;  a  man  who 
loved  drollery  more  than  most,  and  knew  that  the 
sublimest  moments  in  life  took  on  point  and  lustre 
by  being  set  over  against  the  actualities  of  daily 
existence ;  a  man,  too,  who,  even  in  his  folly,  was 
more  natural  than  most  human  beings  will  care  to 
admit. 


INDEX 


Adam  brothers  (James,  John, 
Robert,  William),  8. 

Adam,  Robert  B.,  231. 

Adam,  Robert  B.,  Jr.,  owner  of  the 
only  known  proof-sheets  of  the 
Life,  230/. 

Adams,  Rev.  William,  194,  228,  233. 

Addison,  Joseph,  252. 

"Amete,  MUe.,  the  Turk."  See 
Emetulla. 

Appian  Way,  the,  78,  79. 

Arblay,  Madame  d'  (Fanny  Burney), 
her  Diary  quoted,  34,  111,  187, 
188,  217;  her  feeling  about  the 
Life,  188,  189;  mentioned,  149, 
227. 

Armstrong,  Daniel,  80,  81. 

Asquith,  Herbert  H.,  214. 

Asquith,  Margot,  214. 

Auchinleck,  Lord,  B.'s  father,  advo- 
cate and  judge,  extent  of  his 
estates,  7,  8 ;  the  Boswellian  crest, 
8 ;  his  relations  with  B.,  20,  21,  96, 
97,  98 ;  his  views  of  the  purpose  of 
B's  visit  to  Holland,  22,  23;  B.'s 
"management"  of,  23/.;  decides 
to  send  B.  to  Utrecht,  30;  and 
Lord  Keith,  42,  43 ;  consents  to 
B.'s  visit  to  Germany,  43,  and 
to  the  Italian  tour,  46-48 ;  was 
good  material  for  B.'s  literary 
purpose,  97,  98 ;  his  opinion  of 
B.'s  associates,  98;  refuses  to 
sanction  B.'s  addresses  to  Zelide, 
155,  156 ;  effect  of  his  death  on 
B.'s  position,  240;  mentioned,  29, 
30,  37,  127,  138,  139,  141,  150,  154. 

Auchinleck  estate,  7  ff. ;  the  cabinet, 
and  its  contents,  89,  90,  192;  B.'s 
debts  a  burden  on,  240,  241 ;  his 
creditable  record  as  Master  of, 
243/. 


Barber,  Francis,  228. 

Barnard,  Rev.  Thomas,  194. 

Beauclerk,  Topham,  171,  194. 

Belle  Irlandaise,  La.  See  Mary 
Anne. 

Benolt,  M.,  L'Atlantide,  61,  62. 

Berlin,  39,  44,  45. 

Berlioz,  Hector,  180. 

Blair,  Kate,  "the  Princess,"  B.'s 
wooing  of,  138/.;  hears  of  B.'s 
rash  talk  about  her,  145 ;  B.'s 
rivals  for  her  favour,  146,  150/.; 
in  Edinburgh,  146,  147;  B.'s  in- 
terview with,  detailed  by  B.  in 
letter  to  Temple,  147-149 ;  rejects 
B.'s  suit,  152 ;  B.  again  a  suitor  to, 
159. 

Blair,  Mrs.,  138,  139,  140,  145,  159. 

Boswell,  Alexander,  of  Auchinleck. 
See  Auchinleck,  Lord. 

Boswell,  David,  B.'s  brother,  letter 
to,  10. 

Boswell,     Mrs.     Euphemia,     B.'s 
mother,  7  and  n.,  82,  83. 

Boswell,  James,  his  Ode  to  Tragedy, 
and  its  dedication,  1,  3 ;  his  ambi- 
tion to  associate  with  the  Great, 
3-5,  6,  10,  11,  62,  119;  his  curious 
sense  of  humour,  5 ;  dedication  of 
his  Cub  at  Newmarket,  5  ;  his  social 
status,  compared  with  Johnson's, 
6;  his  origins,  7;  though  heir-ap- 
parent to  Auchinleck,  longs  for 
London,  9 ;  Auchinleck  and  Ulu- 
brae,  9,  10;  first  impressions  of 
London,  10 ;  seeks  association  with 
literary  genius  rather  than  rank 
and  riches,  11,  12;  his  early  hfe, 
11;  first  meeting  with  Hume,  11, 
12 ;  his  judgment  of  Hume,  12,  13 
and  n.;  escapes  being  a  prig,  13; 
his  disorderly  education,  13,  14; 


258 


INDEX 


always  "on  the  rove,"  14;  his  re- 
lations with  Johnson  a  vindica- 
tion of  his  ambition,  14,  15 ;  the 
distinctive  feature  in  his  character, 
15 ;  his  unequalled  naivete,  15,  17 ; 
inscription  in  his  copy  of  The  Gov- 
ernment of  the  Tongue,  15 ;  Mme. 
du  Deffand  on,  17;  his  melan- 
choly, 18,  19,  20,  25 ;  his  plans  and 
prospects  described  in  letter  to 
Johnston,  20-22 ;  relations  with 
his  father,  20,  21,  96,  97 ;  his  "af- 
fairs," 22,  24;  his  "boy,"  22,  24, 
25 ;  his  views  for  his  foreign  tour, 
and  his  father's,  22,  23;  how  his 
father  is  to  be  "  managed,"  23,  24 ; 
his  attainments  in  the  law  not 
negligible,  27/.;  Dr.  J.  T.  T. 
Brown  quoted  on,  29. 

Reasons  for  choice  of  Utrecht 
for  pursuing  his  studies,  29,  30; 
family  connections  in  Holland,  30, 
37 ;  his  plans  for  study  at  Utrecht, 
31;  starts  for  Holland,  31,  32; 
early  days  in  Utrecht,  32;  his 
social  activities  there,  32/. ;  his 
friends,  32-36 ;  at  The  Hague,  37, 
38 ;  at  Leyden,  38,  39 ;  significance 
of  the  character  of  the  entries  in 
his  Commonplace  Book,  39,  40, 
41 ;  his  indifiFerence  to  architecture , 
art,  and  scenery,  39,  40 ;  Johnson's 
influence,  how  far  responsible,  39, 
40 ;  his  pride  in  his  record  of  anec- 
dotes and  bons  mots,  41 ;  his  esti- 
mate of  conversation,  41,  42;  de- 
cides to  leave  Holland,  42 ; 
through  Lord  Keith's  influence, 
his  father  consents  to  his  visiting 
Germany,  43 ;  travels  with  Lord 
Keith  and   "the   Turkish  lady," 

43,  44;  contemplates  making  a 
character   sketch   of  Lord  Keith, 

44,  53 ;  Lord  Keith  quoted  on,  44 ; 
in  Berlin,  44-46;  wearies  of  Ger- 
man etiquette,  45 ;  tries  to  "use" 
A.  Mitchell,  to  manage  his  father 


with  regard  to  the  Italian  tour, 
46,  47;  obtains  his  father's  con- 
sent, 47. 

Discovery  of  his  letters  to  Rous- 
seau fills  a  gap  in  his  biography, 
48;  at  Val  de  Travers,  49;  ap- 
proaches Rousseau  without  other 
recommendation  than  his  own 
social  genius,  49,  50;  his  artful 
letter,  50-52,  and  its  success,  53; 
his  association  with  Rousseau  de- 
scribed, 53;  his  confidences,  53; 
asks  Rousseau's  advice  concerning 
music,  54 ;  as  Ossian,  55 ;  his  near- 
duel  with  a  French  ofl5cer,  55,  56 ; 
tries  to  pump  Rousseau  as  to  his 
views  on  duelling,  56,  57 ;  his  ap- 
parent simpUcity,  56,  57,  167; 
tries  to  approach  Rousseau 
through  Mile.  Le  Vasseur,  57,  58 ; 
obtains  an  interview  with  Vol- 
taire at  Ferney,  58-60 ;  dreams  of 
reconciling  Voltaire  and  Rousseau, 

60,  but  succeeds  in  increasing  the 
ill-feeling  between  them  by  a 
"ludicrous  print,"  60,  61;  his 
note-books  of  their  conversation 
not  extant,  61 ;  Walpole  quoted 
on,  62,  63. 

Goes  to  Turin  to  meet  Wilkes, 

61,  73 ;  had  little  in  common  with 
Wilkes,  69;  Wilkes's  attraction 
for  him,  69,  70 ;  his  method  of  ap- 
proach, 70,  76,  77  ;  their  early  as- 
sociation, 70,  interrupted  by  his 
European  tour,  71 ;  significance  of 
his  first  letter  to  WUkes,  73,  74; 
on  the  death  of  Churchill,  76,  77 ; 
writes  Wilkes  in  Latin,  77;  in 
Naples  with  Wilkes,  79;  his  con- 
quest of  the  great  man,  80;  his 
correspondence  with  Wilkes,  80, 
82;  plans  an  "heroic  epistle"  to 
Wilkes,  81,  82;  their  association 
interrupted  by  the  toiu"  to  Cor- 
sica, 82,  83;  and  Lord  Mayor 
Wilkes,  83,  85;  at  the  Mansion 


INDEX 


259 


House,  83,  84 ;  brings  Wilkes  and 
Johnson  together,  85  ff. ;  fails  to 
entice  Johnson  to  Wilkes's  house, 
86,  87 ;  his  later  relations  with 
Wilkes,  88,  89 ;  the  cabinet  at  Au- 
chinleck  and  its  treasures,  89,  90, 
192;  what  might  have  been,  90. 

Reason  for  his  preference  for  the 
society  of  older  men,  92,  93,  94 ; 
familiar  conception  of,  as  a  hero- 
worshipper,  erroneous,  93 ;  why 
he  teased  Johnson  about  the  free- 
dom of  the  will,  93,  94 ;  always 
seeking  advice,  94,  95 ;  what  he 
gave  in  return,  95 ;  his  attitude 
deBned,  95,  96 ;  his  filial  affection 
gradually  extinguished,  96,  97 ; 
but  his  imagination  fascinated  by 
his  father,  97,  98;  his  love  of  a 
good  story  inherited,  98 ;  his 
father's  opinion  of  his  associates, 
98;  relations  with  Sir  A.  Dick, 
98/. ;  his  Italian  tour,  100,  101 ;. 
his  visit  to  Herculaneum,  Naples 
and  Rome  described  in  letter  to 
Dick,  101-103 ;  was  his  enthusi- 
asm sincere  ?  103 ;  travels  with 
Lord  Mountstuart,  103 ;  proves 
John  Dick's  title  to  baronetcy, 
104-106;  proposes  to  "Boswell- 
ise"  Sir  A.  Dick,  106-108,  252; 
relations  with  Paoli,  108/. ;  his 
sympathy  with  America,  Ireland, 
and  the  Scottish  Highlands,  109; 
becomes  interested  in  the  Corsi- 
cans,  110;  his  first  meeting  with 
Paoli  described  by  both,  110,  111 ; 
Sir  G.  O.  Trevelyan  quoted  on  the 
Tour  to  Corsica,  112;  solicits 
articles  on  Corsica  from  friends, 
113 ;  publishes  British  Essays  in 
Favour  of  the  Brave  Corsicans,  113 ; 
H.  Walpole  quoted  on  Paoli  and, 
113;  his  account  of  Paoli's  recep- 
tion in  England,  114,  115;  Paoli's 
house  his  headquarters  in  London, 


115 ;  his  enduring  friendship  with 
Paoli,  115,  116. 

Sir  W.  Temple  his  constant  con- 
fidant, 119-121 ;  his  dreams  of 
greatness,  120,  121;  his  concep- 
tion of  a  worthy  mistress  of  Au- 
chinleck,  121 ;  his  passion  for  Miss 

W 1,    121-123;    his    relations 

with  Mile,  de  Zuylen  (Zelide), 
126-136 ;  his  extraordinary  letter 
to  her,  128/.;  his  "preposterous 
humour,"  132;  Zelide  decides  not 
to  marry  him,  135 ;  their  corres- 
pondence continued,  135,  142, 
143 ;  submits  her  letters  to  Rous- 
seau, 135 ;  were  they  suited  to 
each  other?  135,  136;  the  Italian 
Signora  at  Siena,  136,  142,  143 ; 
the  problem  of  his  relations  with 
the  sex  laid  before  Paoli,  137; 
woos  Kate  Blair,  "the  Princess," 
138/. ;  his  instructions  to  Temple 
on  his  visit  of  inspection,  139-141 ; 
in  the  emotional  rapids,  142; 
his  intrigue  with  the  "Moffat 
woman,"  144,  145 ;  effect  of  his 
other  affairs  on  his  relations  with 
Miss  Blair,  145 ;  his  rivals,  146 ; 
describes  to  Temple  an  interview 
with  Miss  Blair,  147-149,  150; 
conspires  with  FuUarton,  151, 
152;  is  finally  rejected  by  Miss 
Blair,  152,  153 ;  success  of  his 
Account  of  Corsica,  153,  154,  157; 
Zelide  proposes  to  translate  it  into 
French,  154 ;  reciu-s  to  his  idea  of 
marrying  her,  154 ;  but  is  disen- 
chanted, and  welcomes  his  father's 
refusal  to  entertain  the  idea,  155, 
156 ;  smitten  with  la  belle  Irland- 
aise,  156,  157;  writes  of  her  to 
Temple  and  Sir  A.  Dick,  157,  158 ; 
has  a  relapse  in  favour  of  Miss 
Blair,  159 ;  visits  Ireland,  159,  160 ; 
how  to  approach  the  Lord  Lieu- 
tenant, 160;  la  belle  Irlandaise 
again    in    the    ascendant,     161 ; 


260 


INDEX 


marries  Margaret  Montgomery, 
161,  162;  his  relations  with  his 
wife,  162,  163;  "Uxoriana,"  his 
vain  attempt  to  "Boswellise"  her, 
163,  164. 

A  disciple  of  the  "philosophy  of 
exposure,"  166;  a  lover  of  "fric- 
tion," 166/.;  and  Mrs.  Rudd, 
166,  167;  his  affectation  of  igno- 
rance or  prejudice,  167;  his  skill 
in  starting  or  directing  the  flow  of 
talk,  illustrated  from  the  Life  of 
Johnson,  169,  170;  eternally  ask- 
ing questions,  169 ;  his  skill  in 
playing  upon  men,  170,  171 ; 
character  of  the  conversations  he 
records,  171,  172 ;  character  of  his 
letters,  172;  his  letter  to  Gold- 
smith on  She  Stoops  to  Conquer, 
173,  178,  179 ;  his  genius  analyzed, 
180_^. ;  his  "romantic  imagina- 
tion," 180-182;  his  unfulfilled 
scheme  of  "going  up  the  Baltic" 
with  Johnson,  182;  his  every 
achievement,  in  the  beginning  a 
crack-brained  dream,  183,  184 ; 
his  delight  in  the  realization  of  his 
dreams,  184,  185  ;  his  social  success 
due  to  his  perpetual  good  humour, 
185  ff. ;  his  election  to  the  Literary 
Club  due  to  it,  186;  Fanny  Bur- 
ney  quoted  on,  187-189;  tries 
vainly  to  enlist  her  assistance  in 
gathering  material  for  the  Life, 
188;  character  of  his  gaiety,  189, 
190 ;  his  abiding  habit  of  recording 
social  life,  190. 

His  note-books  lost,  192;  his 
testamentary  provision  for  publi- 
cation of  material  in  the  cabinet  at 
Auchinleck  nullified  by  his  ex- 
ecutors' neglect,  192,  193;  his 
MSS.  mostly  destroyed  by  the 
family,  193 ;  the  Commonplace 
Book  and  one  journal  alone  pre- 
served, 193 ;  contents  of  the  latter, 
194,  195 ;  parallel  passages  of  the 


journal  and  the  Life,  195,  197- 
201 ;  how  did  he  make  his  note- 
books? 201  _^.;  accuracy  of  his 
record  due  to  the  training  of  his 
memory,  204-206 ;  the  journey  to 
the  Hebrides  with  Johnson,  206/. ; 
his  fears  that  Johnson  wO'uld  not 
write  a  description  of  the  tour, 
and  his  consequent  "goading," 
208,  209 ;  his  selfish  motive,  210 ; 
not  satisfied  with  Johnson's  book, 
210,  211 ;  his  "Remarks"  thereon, 
211 ;  plans  to  publish  a  supple- 
ment, but  abandons  the  idea,  212 ; 
his  own  Journal  of  a  Tour,  etc., 
published  after  Johnson's  death, 
212/. ;  the  book  a  standard  of 
indiscretion,  214 ;  how  it  was  re- 
ceived by  his  enemies  and  friends, 
214-217 ;  his  answer  to  his  critics, 

217,  218;  the  happiest  of  books, 

218,  219. 

His  general  notions  in  writing 
the  Life  of  Johnson,  221 ;  his  pre- 
vailing faidt,  221 ;  modest  in  spite 
of  himself,  221,  222 ;  fails  to  real- 
ize the  extent  of  his  achievement, 
224 ;  how  his  genius  exhibited  it- 
self, 225,  226 ;  effect  of  the  publi- 
cation of  the  Life,  225 ;  describes 
the  labour  involved,  227;  the 
thoroughness  of  the  work  a  proof 
of  its  greatness,  227 ;  his  prepara- 
tions for  writing  it,  and  his  method, 
228;  relations  with  Lord  Lons- 
dale, 228,  229;  troubles  about 
printing,  229;  and  Malone, 
229,  230 ;  extant  proof-sheets  de- 
scribed, 230,  231 ;  character  of  his 
changes  and  corrections  on  proofs, 
232,  233,  236,  237;  will  his  own 
copy  of  the  Life  ever  turn  up  ?  238. 

His  latter  years  not  a  pleasant 
study,  239;  his  father's  death 
enables  him  to  transfer  his  resi- 
dence to  London,  240;  his  in- 
herited estate  embarrassed  by  his 


INDEX 


261 


debts,  240,  241 ;  called  to  the  Eng- 
lish bar,  but  has  no  briefs,  241, 
242;  his  Scottish  practice  sacri- 
ficed to  the  charms  of  London, 
242 ;  his  ambition  to  enter  Parlia- 
ment, and  his  subserviency  to 
Lonsdale,  243;  as  Master  of  Au- 
chinleck,  a  just  and  generous  land- 
lord, 243  _^. ;  plans  to  visit  the 
allied  armies  in  France  (1793), 
247 ;  beaten  and  robbed  in  London, 
247,  248;  his  intemperance,  249, 
250;  his  gaiety  of  disposition 
never  deserted  him,  250;  and 
Warren  Hastings,  250 ;  his  death, 
250,  251 ;  revision  of  the  Life,  251 ; 
his  reputation  well-nigh  sub- 
merged by  Johnson's,  251;  his 
present  status  in  the  regard  of  the 
public,  252;  his  unexecuted  lit- 
erary projects,  252,  253;  plans, 
with  Johnson's  encouragement,  a 
history  of  the  invasion  of  the  Pre- 
tender (1745),  253,  254  ;  his  essen- 
tial amiability,  254,  255. 

Letters  (quoted  entire  or  in 
part) :  to  David  Boswell,  10;  Sir  D. 
Dalrymple,  17,  31,  70,  71,  92 ;  Sir 
A.  Dick,  100,  101,  105,  106,  107. 
113,  158,  160,  161 ;  Andrew  Gibb, 
244,  246 ;  C.  Giffardier,  35 ;  Sam- 
uel Johnson,  184  ;  John  Johnston, 
20-22;  Warren  Hastings,  250; 
Sir  M.  le  Fleming,  248 ;  Andrew 
Mitchell,  46,  47 ;  Bishop  Percy, 
222;  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  50- 
52,  54,  55,  58,  59,  134 ;  Sir  WUliam 
Scott,  226;  Anna  Seward,  223; 
Rev.  W.  Temple,  12,  18,  121,  140, 
144,  147,  150,  152.  154,  155,  156. 
157,  212,  223,  227,  242;  Henry 
Thrale,  208;  John  Wilkes,  74,  76, 
78,  85,  87,  89,  171;  Isabella  de 
Zuylen,  45,  128/. 

Works.  —  "  Account  of  Corsica" 
(Tour  to  Corsica),  H.  Walpole  on, 
63;  Sir  G.  O.  Trevelyan  on.  111 ; 


success  of,  153,  157 ;  quoted  or 
referred  to,  17,  60,  93,  109,  110, 
202,  206.  "British  Essays  in 
Favour  of  the  Brave  Corsicans," 
113.  Commonplace  Book,  de- 
scribed, 193,  194 ;  quoted  or  re- 
ferred to,  27,  32,  33,  34,  38.  39,  41, 
44.  98,  171,  182,  205,  206.  "The 
Cub  at  Newmarket,"  5.  "Jour- 
nal of  a  Tour  to  the  Hebrides  with 
Samuel  Johnson, LL.D.", 30, 212- 
219.  238.  "Life  of  Johnson," 
considered  at  length.  220-238; 
Macaulay's  summary  of,  222; 
second  edition.  248 ;  third  edition 
far  advanced  when  B.  died.  251; 
quoted  or  referred  to,  31,  32,  85, 
88,  90,  114,  169,  170,  180,  182,  188. 
190,  193,  194/..  202.  204.  205, 
253.  254.  "Memoirs  of  PaoU"; 
see  "Account  of  Corsica."  "Ode 
to  Tragedy."  1.  3.  "Tour  to 
Corsica";  see  "Account  of  Cor- 
sica." 

Boswell,  Margaret  (Montgomery), 
B.'s  wife,  trials  of  her  married  life, 
162,  163;  fails  to  understand  B., 
163;  his  vain  attempt  to  "Bos- 
wellise"  her,  163;  her  death,  228. 
And  see  Montgomery,  Margaret. 

Boswell,  Robert,  193. 

Boswell,  Thomas,  ancestor  of  B.,  7. 

Boswell  family,  the,  and  B.'s  MSS., 
193 ;  refuses  assistance  to  scholars 
seeking  information,  238. 

"Boyd,  Aunt,"  159. 

British  Museum,  letters  of  Wilkes 
in.  74. 

Brown,  J.  T.  T.,  quoted,  on  B.  as  an 
advocate,  29. 

Brown,  Rev.  William,  at  Utrecht,  34. 

Bruce,  James,  140. 

Bruce,  Robert,  B.  descended  from.  67. 

Brunswick.  Princess  of.  45. 

Burke,  Edmund,  89,  205  and  n. 

Burney,  Frances.  See  Arblay,  Ma- 
dame d'. 


262 


INDEX 


Burns,  Robert,  24. 

Bute.  Earl  of,  66,  81,  103.  104. 

Byron,  Lord,  181. 

Caihnie,  Mr.,  22,  24. 

Catherine  II,  Empress  of  Russia, 
183. 

Charles  I,  104. 

Charles  (B.'s  "boy").  22,  24.  25. 

Charlotte,  Queen  of  George  III,  34, 
115,  187. 

Churchill,  Charles,  and  Wilkes,  72 ; 
death  of,  73,  76. 

Collings,  Samuel,  215. 

Colman,  George,  83. 

Conversation,  "the  purest  joy  in 
life,"  to  B.,  40,  41,  42. 

Cook,  Captain  James,  181. 

Corradini,  Gertrude,  Wilkes's  mis- 
tress, 72,  73,  89. 

Corsica,  B.'s  visit  to,  110^.  And 
see  Paoli. 

Corsicans,  B.'s  interest  in,  109. 

DALRYMrLE,  SiR  David,  suggests 
Utrecht  for  completion  of  B.'s 
legal  studies,  30;  mentioned,  14, 
15, 17, 18.  46.  98.  And  see  Letters, 
under  Boswell.  James. 

De  Leyre.  Signor,  54. 

DefiFand,  Marquise  du,  on  Hume,  13 ; 
on  B.,  17. 

Defoe,  Daniel,  Moll  Flanders,  24. 

Dempster.  George.  152. 

Derrick.  Samuel.  4. 

Dick.  Sir  Alex.,  position  and  char- 
acter of,  98 _^.;  interested  in  B.'s 
Italian  trip,  100 ;  introduces  B.  to 
Paderni,  101 ;  B.  plans  a  biog- 
raphy of,  104,  107,  108.  252 ;  and 
John  Dick's  claim  to  baronetcy. 
104-106;  his  diary  quoted,  107; 
mentioned,  92.  103.  158.  159,  160, 
161,  162.  And  see  Letters,  under 
Boswell,  James. 

Dick,  Lady  (Alexander),  158. 

Dick,  Jessy,  108. 


Dick,  (Sir)  John,  B.  establishes  his 

claim  to  baronetcy,  104-106. 
Dick,  Lady  (John),  105,  106. 
Dick,  Sir  William,  104,  105,  106. 
Dilly.  Charles.  Johnson  and  Wilkes 

dine  with,  85 ;  mentioned,  86,  87, 

88. 
Dilly,  John,  86,  87. 
Dumas,    Alexandre,    Monte    Crisio, 

73. 
Dundonald,  Earl  of,  7. 

Edinburgh  University,  B.  a  stu- 
dent at,  9,  14,  28,  29. 

Emetulla,  Lord  Keith's  adopted 
daughter,  43,  45. 

Errol,  Lord,  214. 

Erskine,  Euphemia.  See  Boswell, 
Mrs.  Euphemia. 

Essex,  Earl  of,  39,  40. 

Fernet,  B.'s  interview  with  Vol- 
taire at,  58-60. 

Fielding,  Henry,  149. 

Fletcher,  Andrew,  of  Saltoun,  52. 

Forbes,  Sir  William,  one  of  B.'s  lit- 
erary executors,  192,  193,  217. 

Forbes,  Lady.  Curiosities  of  a  Scots 
Charta  Chest,  99  and  n. 

Franklin,  Benjamin,  99. 

Franklin,  William,  99. 

Frederick  the  Great,  and  Lord  Keith, 
42.  43.  45. 

Frederick  William  II,  45. 

French  Revolution,  echo  of,  246. 

Fullarton,  Mr.,  "the  Nabob,"  and 
Miss  Blair,  142,  146,  151,  152,  153. 

Garrick,  David,  89,  171,  178,  179, 

209,  237. 
Gentleman,  Francis,  3,  4. 
Geoffrin,  Madame,  on  Hume,  13. 
George  II,  42. 
George  III,  11,  64,  66,  67,  68,  106, 

113.  115,  187. 
Gerard,  Alexander,  169. 
Gibb,  Andrew,  243, 244, 246, 247, 249. 


INDEX 


263 


Gibb,  James,  243. 

Giffardier,  Rev.  Charles  (Mr.  Tur- 
bulent), 34,  35,  187,  188 ;  letter  of 
B.  to,  35. 

Gilmour,  Sir  Alex.  ("Sir  Sawney"), 
and  Miss  Blair,  150,  152,  159. 

Glasgow  University,  B.  a  student  at, 
14,  29. 

Goldsmith,  Oliver,  no  letter-writer, 
173;  letter  of  B.  to,  on  She 
Stoops  to  Conquer,  173  ff. ;  can- 
celled reference  to,  on  proof-sheets 
of  Life,  232,  233. 

Gordon,  Hon.  Charles,  39. 

Gordon,  Duchess  of.  See  Maxwell, 
Jenny. 

Gray,  Thomas,  letter  of  H.  Walpole 
to,  62,  63. 

Grenville,  George,  66,  67. 

Gronovius,  Abraham,  30,  38. 

Hackman,  Rev.  James,  166. 

Hague,  The,  37,  38. 

Hailes,  Lord.  See  Dalrymple,  Sir 
David. 

Halifax,  Lord,  67. 

Hamilton,  Duchess  of,  215. 

Hastings,  Warren,  B.'s  last  extant 
letter  written  to,  250. 

Hawkins,  Sir  John,  Lije  of  Johnson, 
223. 

Hector,  Edmund,  194,  236. 

Herculaneum,  39,  101,  102. 

Hervey,  Thomas,  194. 

Hill,  George  Birkbeck,  his  edition  of 
the  Life,  197  n. ;  Johnsonian  Mis- 
cellanies,  227;  mentioned,  231, 
236. 

Hogarth,  William,  64,  90,  91. 

Holland,  Lord,  112. 

Horace,  Epistles,  9. 

Hume,  David,  B.'s  first  meeting 
with,  11,  12;  his  History  of  Eng- 
land and  Natural  History  of  Re- 
ligion, 11 ;  B.'s  judgment  of,  12, 
13  n.,  confirmed  by  Mmes.  du 
Deffand  and  Geoffrin,  13 ;  in  B.'s 


"ludicrous  print,"   60,   61;  men- 
tioned, 68,  89,  99,  252. 

Ireland,  B.'s  visit  to,  159-161. 
ItaUan  Signora,  the,  136,  142, 143. 

James  IV,  of  Scotland,  7. 
Johnson,   Samuel,    his   social  status 
compared  with  B.'s,  6 ;  quoted,  on 
Auchinleck  castle,  8,  9 ;  B.'s  rela- 
tions with,    a   vindication  of  his 
ambition    to    associate   with    the 
great,    14 ;    accompanies    B.    to 
Harwich,  en  route  to  Holland,  31, 
32;  his  advice  to  B.  on  places  to 
visit,  39,  40 ;  quoted,  on  Rousseau 
and    Wilkes,     83;     and    Wilkes, 
brought  together  by  B.,  85;  B. 
fails   to   induce    him    to   dine   at 
Wilkes's  house,   86,   87,  88;  B.'s 
record  of  his   conversation,    169, 
170,  195,  197-201 ;  visits  Hebrides 
with  B.,  206/.;  B.  urges  him  to 
write  a  narrative  of  the  tour,  208- 
210 ;  his  narrative  not  satisfactory 
to    B.,     210;     B.'s     "Remarks" 
thereon,  211,  212;  his  fame  as  a 
writer  of  travels  eclipsed  by  B.'s 
Journal   of    the    tour,    published 
after   J.'s    death,    213,    214;    his 
friends  outraged  by  B.'s  book,  214, 
215,  216,  217 ;  his  Dictionary,  233 ; 
mentioned,  32,  37,  70,  89,  92,  93, 
94,  126,  144,   163,   166,  167,  180, 
181,  182,  183,  184,  185,  186,  187, 
189,  190,  194,  195,  201,  202,  203, 
204,  205  and  n.,  219,  220/.,  240, 
251,  253,   254.     And   see   Works, 
under  Boswell,  James,  for  refer- 
ences to  the  Life  of  Johnson,  and 
Journal  of  a  Tour  to  the  Hebrides. 
Johnson  Club  Papers,  231. 
Johnston,  John,  of  Grange,  a  dear 
friend  of  B.,  19;  letter  of  B.  to, 
20-22. 

Kames,  Lobd,  146. 


264 


INDEX 


Keats,  John,  180. 

Keith,  George,  Earl  Marischal,  his 
career,  42 ;  friend  of  Voltaire  and 
Rousseau,  and  favourite  of  Fred- 
erick the  Great,  42,  43;  intimate 
with  Lord  AuchinKck,  42,  43; 
invites  B.  to  travel  to  Berlin  with 
him,  43 ;  the  journey,  43,  44,  45 ; 
B.  proposes  to  write  a  character 
sketch  of,  44,  53;  quoted  on  B., 
44 ;  declines  to  introduce  B.  to 
Rousseau,  49,  50,  but  probably 
gave  him  a  letter  to  Voltaire,  58 ; 
mentioned,  45,  109. 

Keith,  Gen.  James  F.  E.,  43. 

Kincardine,  Alexander,  Earl  of,  7. 

Kincardine,  Countess  of,  30. 

Langton,  Bennet,  15, 189, 194,  210. 
Le  Fleming,    Sir  Michael,  letter  of 

B.  to,  248,  249. 
Le  Vasseur,  Therese,  58. 
Leyden,  30,  38,  39. 
Literary  Club,  the,  B.'s  election  to, 

due  to  his  good  hmnour,  186. 
London,  Bishop  of,  99. 
London,  B.'s  longing  for,  9 ;  his  first 

impressions   of,   10;  Wilkes  Lord 

Mayor  of,    83-85;   effect  of  B.'s 

passion     for,     after    his    father's 

death,  240-242. 
Lonsdale,  Lord,  B.'s  "master,"  228, 

229,  243. 
Love,  James,  22,  122,  123. 

McDonald,  Sir  Alex.,  215. 

Macaulay  (McAuley),  Rev.  Ken- 
neth, 215. 

Macaulay,  Thomas  B.,  Lord,  his 
summary  of  the  Life,  221,  222. 

Macdonald,  Flora,  254. 

Malone,  Edmond,  one  of  B.'s  lit- 
erary executors,  192,  193;  B.'s 
chief  assistant  in  printing  the  Life, 
119  ff.;  his  work  on  the  proofs, 
236,  237. 

Mar,  Earl  of,  7,  43. 


Mary  Anne  {la  belle  Irlandaise),  B.'s 
wooing  of,  156_ff. ;  her  relatives 
approve  of  B.,  157 ;  visited  by  B. 
in  Ireland,  159,  161. 

Mason,  William,  lives  of  Gray  and 
of  Whitehead,  223 ;  mentioned,  1. 

Maty,  Matthew,  233. 

Maxwell,  Jenny,  Duchess  of  Gordon, 
146,  147. 

Mitchell,  Andrew,  B.'s  letters  to, 
and  their  purpose,  46,  47;  his 
advice  to  B.,  47 ;  mentioned,  94. 

"Moffat  woman,  the,"  B.'s  intrigue 
with,  144,  145. 

Monboddo,  Lord,  214,  215. 

Montgomery,  Margaret,  marries  B., 
161 ;  her  character,  161,  162 ;  men- 
tioned, 156.  And  see  Boswell, 
Margaret  (Montgomery). 

Montgomery  {?),  Mary  Anne.  See 
Mary  Anne. 

Mountstuart,  Lord,  B.'s  travelling 
companion  in  Italy,  103  and  7i. 

Nairne,  William,  37,  38. 
Naples,  B.  and  Wilkes  at,  78-80. 
Nash,  Richard  ("Beau"),  4. 
Nassau,  Count  of,  30. 
Nassau  Beverwerd,  Comtesse  de,  36. 
North-Briton,  The.  See  Wilkes,  John. 

"Old     Pretender."     See     Stuart, 

James  F.  E. 
Orkney,  Lady,  250. 

Paderni,  Camillo,  101,  102. 

Paine,  Thomas,  64. 

Paoli,  Pasquale,  difference  between 
B.'s  friendship  for,  and  his  other 
friendships,  108,  109;  a  modern 
.^neas,  109;  B.'s  first  meeting 
with,  described  by  both,  110,  111; 
quoted,  112;  personality  of,  first 
revealed  to  the  world  in  B.'s  Ac- 
count of  Corsica,  113 ;  his  recep- 
tion in  England,  113,  115;  later 
relations  with  B.  described  in  the 


INDEX 


265 


Life,  115 ;  their  friendship  never 
broken,  115;  his  house,  B.'s  head- 
quarters in  London,  115;  con- 
sulted by  B.  as  to  his  relations  with 
the  sex,  137 ;  mentioned,  41,  89, 
92,  94,  103,  153,  160,  1G7, 172,  185, 
186,  203,  206. 

Paoli,  Penn.,  109. 

Parliament,  B.'s  vain  attempts  to 
enter,  243. 

Paul,  Saint,  46. 

Pepys,  Samuel,  his  naivete  and  B.'s, 
15. 

Percy,  Thomas,  194,  215,  222,  228. 

Perreau  brothers,  166. 

Pitt,  William,  Earl  Chatham,  42, 
160. 

Pope,  Alexander,  99. 

Porter,  Lucy,  194. 

Porteus,  Beilby,  184,  185. 

Prestonfield,  98,  99,  100. 

Pringle,  Sir  John,  154. 

Ramsay,  Allan,  99. 

Reynolds,  Sir  Joshua,  88,  214,  236. 

Rivarola,  Count,  110. 

Rogers,  Rev.  Samuel,  quoted,  on  the 
neglect  of  duty  of  B.'s  executors, 
193. 

Roman  Catholics,  B.  associates  ■with, 
166. 

Romantic  Movement,  the,  B.  a  child 
of,  181. 

Rome,  B.  on  the  antiquities  of,  102 ; 
mentioned,  39. 

Rousseau,  Jean  Jacques,  his  naivete 
and  B.'s,15 ;  B.'s  method  of  ap- 
proach to,  49,  50 ;  his  La  Nouvelle 
Heloise,  52,  57 ;  B.'s  interview  with, 
53,  54  ;  B.  asks  advice  of,  concern- 
ing music,  54,  55,  and  tries  to 
"draw"  him  as  to  duelling,  55-57 ; 
B.  describes  to  him  his  interview 
with  Voltaire,  59,  60;  B.'s  "ludi- 
crous print"  increases  the  ill- 
feeling  between  Voltaire  and,  60, 
61 ;  B.  submits  Zelide's  letters  to. 


134;  mentioned,  42,  44,  48,  63,  83, 

89,  101,  141,  166,  180. 
Rowlandson,  Thomas,  215. 
Rudd,   Mrs.  Margaret  C,  B.  and, 

166,  167. 
Ruddiman,  Thomas,  252. 

Sally,  B.'s  daughter  by  the  "Mof- 
fat woman,"  145. 

Scotland,  Johnson's  dislike  of,  207,208. 

Scott,  Sir  Walter,  254. 

Scott,  Sir  William,  225,  226. 

Selfe,  Mr.,  corrector  of  the  press,  237. 

Seward,  Anna,  the  "Swan  of  Lich- 
field," 223,  224,  228. 

Shakespeare,  William,  Othello,  146. 

Sheridan,  Richard  B.,  171. 

Sheridan,  Thomas,  1. 

Sibbald,  Sir  Robert,  144. 

Smollett,  Tobias  G.,  66. 

Sommeldyck,  the  noble  house  of,  30. 

Southerne,  Thomas,  Oroonoco,  4. 

Stewart,  Andrew,  37,  38. 

Stuart,  Charles  Edward  L.  P.  C,  the 
"Young  Pretender,"  65  ;  B.  plans 
to  write  a  history  of  his  invasion, 
253,  254. 

Stuart,  James  F.  E.,  the  "Old  Pre- 
tender," 44. 

Stuart,  Col.  James,  184. 

Tamar,  ballet,  61,  62. 

Taylor,  Dr.  John,  195. 

Temple,  Rev.  William,  B.'s  lifelong 
friend,  11,  119,  120;  sent  on  a 
visit  of  inspection  of  Miss  Blair, 
with  instructions,  139-141 ;  dis- 
approves B.'s  propensity  to  in- 
trigue, 141,  142 ;  disapproves  of 
Zelide  as  a  wife  for  B.,  154 ;  one 
of  B.'s  literary  executors,  192, 193 ; 
mentioned,  138,  144, 145, 147,  150, 
155,  156,  157,  181,  212,  223,  227, 
241,  242.  And  see  Letters,  under 
Bos  well,  James. 

Thrale,  Henry,  letter  of  B.  to,  208; 
mentioned,  111. 


266 


INDEX 


Thrale,  Hester  Lynch,  Anecdotes  of 
Johnson.  203,  223 ;  Letters  of  Sam- 
uel Johnson,  223;  mentioned,  111, 
144,  204,  208. 

Thurlow,  Lord,  37. 

Towers,  J.,  Last  Words  of  Samuel 
Johnson,  223. 

Trevelyan,  Sir  G.  O.,  quoted,  on 
B.'s  Account  of  Corsica,  112;  men- 
tioned, 215. 

TroUope,  Anthony,  149. 

Trotz,  Mynheer,  B.'s  teacher  at 
Utrecht,  32;  did  B.  try  to  "Bos- 
wenise"him?  33. 

"Turbulent,    Mr."     See   Giffardier. 

Tyers,  Thomas,  Life  of  Johnson,  223. 

Ulubk^,  and  Auchinleck,  9,  10. 

Unwin,  Fisher,  231. 

Utrecht,  chosen  as  place  for  B.  to 
prosecute  his  legal  studies,  21,  23, 
29,  30,  31 ;  his  early  days  at,  32/. 

Vesuvtos,  Mt.,  79. 

Voltaire,  F.  M.  Arouet,  B.  visits  at 
Ferney,  58-60,  and  describes  his 
interview  to  Rousseau,  59;  his 
opinion  of  Rousseau,  60;  B.'s 
"ludicrous  print"  of,  with  Rous- 
seau and  Hume,  60,  61 ;  men- 
tioned, 42,  141,  166. 

W T,  Miss,  an  unidentified  flame 

of  B.,  120-122. 

Walpole,  Horace,  letter  of,  to  Gray, 
62,  63;  on  B.  and  Rousseau,  63; 
on  Paoli,  113;  mentioned,  17,  112, 
178. 

Warren,  Dr.  Richard,  250. 

Warton,  Thomas,  236. 

Wedderburn,  Alexander,  232,  233. 

Wilkes,  John,|an|exile,  in  Turin,  61 ; 
his  career,  his  character  and  repu- 
tation,64/.  ;with  the  North-Briton, 
forces  Bute  to  resign,  66 ;  North- 
Briton;No.  ^5, 167,  ,71,  72;  prose- 
cuted by  general  warrant,  67,  68 ; 
imprisoned   and   discharged,    68; 


the  idol  of  the  crowd,  68;  his 
gaiety  appeals  to  B,  69,  70 ;  their 
early  acquaintance,  70;  expelled 
from    Parliament   and    outlawed, 

71,  72;  and  Gertrude  Corradini, 

72,  73 ;  efiFect  of  Churchill's  death 
on,  73,  76 ;  with  B.  in  Italy,  73/. ; 
nature  of  their  relations,  80,  81 ; 
B.  projects  heroic  epistle  to,  81, 
82;  Lord  Mayor  of  London,  83- 
85 ;  B.  brings  Johnson  and  him 
together,  85,  86 ;  Johnson  declines 
to  dine  at  his  house,  87,  88;  B.'s 
later  relations  with,  89 ;  what  B. 
might  have  written  about  him,  90, 
91 ;  mentioned,  10,  40,  92,  95,  101, 
103,  104,  163,  170,  184.  And  see 
Letters  under  Boswell,  James. 

Wilkes,  Miss,  79,  85,  86,  87,  88. 

Williams,  Anna,  209. 

Wooing  a  wife,  reflections  on,  117- 

119. 
Wordsworth,    William,   his   French 

daughter,  25. 

York,  Duke  of,  5. 
"Yoimg    Pretender."     See    Stuart, 
Charles  Edward. 

"Zelide."    See  Zuylen,  Isabella  de. 

Zuylen,  Baron  de,  33,  123,  127,  129. 

Zuylen,  Isabella  de,  letter  of  B.  to, 
45 ;  B.  consults  Rousseau  con- 
cerning his  love  for,  53,  134 ;  B.'s 
love-affair  with,  123/. ;  her  char- 
acter, 124,  and  her  own  critical 
analysis  thereof,  124-126;  nature 
of  her  sentiment  and  B.'s  each  for 
the  other,  126/.;  extracts  from 
B.'s  only  extant  love-letter,  128 
/. ;  the  end  of  it  all,  134-136 ;  her 
correspondence  with  B.  continued, 
142,  143 ;  B.  renews  his  suit  to, 
153,  154 ;  proposes  to  translate 
the  Account  of  Corsica  into  French, 
154 ;  end  of  B.'s  relations  with, 
155, 156 ;  mentioned,  149, 164, 167, 
169. 


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